


No Strings

by LMT



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: (Light) caretaking kink, (Light) forced exercise, D/s, Fantasy of nonconsensual act, Kinda messy, M/M, Nonconsensual act, Oral Sex, Super ridiculously light hint of CBT, mouthsoaping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 22,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27121675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LMT/pseuds/LMT
Summary: He reached for his beer and polished it off.  “No strings, right?”  He shrugged, like he couldn’t still feel the heat of LaRusso’s face pressing against his leg.(Johnny gets catfished.  By Daniel - who has an unusual set of interests, which may or may not be rooted in thirty-five-year-old traumas, and which turn out to be a surprising amount of fun to explore.  MIND THE TAGS; this fic is full of gagging and kink without a clue).
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 303
Kudos: 225





	1. Chapter 1

**You sound too good to be true.**

**_Meet me and find out._ **

**Why should I meet you?**

**_Because I’m a cute brunette with daddy issues and I can do things to you that no one else has or will._ **

**Ha ha! Why do you want to meet me? I have daddy issues too but mine dont do me any good in the sack :)**

**_Because you sound like a toughguy, and I want to suck the tough right out of you. I’m not looking for a boyfriend – just looking to give a little head this weekend. Sound good?_ **

**Hell yeah.**

**_10pm tomorrow. On the beach. I’ll send a pic of the GPS where._ **

* * *

Johnny got there early – with a big bottle in the glove compartment in case he wound up with nothing but disappointment that needed drowning. The chick really _did_ seem too good to be true – a photo that looked like a model’s headshot, funny and teasing and _nice_ , and willing to put out _._ He knew by now that there were no nice girls on Tinder – and especially no nice girls who wanted to give free no-strings head in a stranger’s car.

(The _free_ was important. He wasn’t paying for it, not now and not ever. When he was one hundred he would have the best old-man game in the nursing home, and he’d shoot for the hot nurses but settle for the ugly night nurses if he had to.).

But hope springs eternal. And just in case there was _any chance_ that she was what she claimed to be, here he was.

He was early.

She was late.

On reflection he decided that was good, though. Maybe she was just flakey – otherwise perfect, but had lowered her standards to guys like him because she was too flakey to land a more serious man.

He was sitting in his car in the parking lot, window down. He heard someone pull in.

He liked her driving – sharp and authoritative, swinging in fast and pulling up right next to him.

But then the car turned off and the door opened, and it wasn’t his date at all.

It was Daniel LaRusso. Cheerful and clueless as ever. “Hey, Johnny!”

 _What the hell?_ He swallowed down a surge of anger. Of course. He should have borrowed some other car for this; his Challenger was fucking unmistakable and of _course_ he ran into someone he knew. Just his luck – horrible luck. A chick looking to suck random cock wasn’t likely to have a lot of loyalty; if she showed up now there was every chance she’d ditch him to hop in with this prick instead.

He wanted LaRusso gone, but if he picked a fight it was likely to keep him longer. He tried a polite approach instead. “Hey, yeah, what’s up. Listen… do me a favor and get out of here, man, okay? I’m busy. I’m meeting someone.”

“Meeting someone?” With that stupid asshole smirk of his. “Who?”

“Your mom. Get lost.”

But LaRusso didn’t take the hint. Didn’t go away. Instead he smiled. “Oh, really? Because I thought you were meeting a cute brunette with daddy issues who wanted to suck you off.” And he spread his hands. Like: _Me._

* * *

Amazingly, when he finally figured it out Johnny didn’t jump out of the car and hit him. (Daniel was prepared for the possibility though – he had a mouthguard in his pocket to pop in if it looked like they were actually going to come to blows. He did not want to have to explain away a chipped tooth at work tomorrow; a sore throat was going to be bad enough.).

Instead of attacking, though… Johnny just muttered a lot of curse words, put keys in the ignition, and revved his engine.

“Hey – come on!” The window was open; he leaned down into it to be heard. “You said you were up for this.”

“I said-?” Johnny gaped at him. “Are you serious? I said I was up for head from a _hot chick_. Not… _you_.”

“What the hell do you care who it is?”

Johnny didn’t answer that. “Why are you on the internet pretending to be a hot chick?”

“What the hell do you care?” he said again. But Johnny’s hand was on the stick and he knew he had about one second left to close the deal. “Look. I can see you’re pissed off. But the question is:” He saw the hand relax. He had a shot. “Do you just want to go home and be pissed off for the rest of the night? Or do you want a good BJ first?”

Johnny sat still a few minutes, obviously thinking about it. And Daniel just waited; he knew he had made exactly the right pitch. Sure enough... eventually Johnny turned the car off and got out. “It better be good.”

“It will. Now come on.” He touched Johnny softly on the arm and walked past him. “Down to the beach.”

Johnny followed, but complained. “Hey – whoa. Where are we going? Why not here?”

“Because,” Daniel said without stopping or turning, “I’m not getting on my knees in gravel for you so that you can facefuck me like an asshole and then not even say thank you. That’s not how this is going to go.”

He heard Johnny trip in the dark – except it wasn’t actually that dark. Ha. “Um.” He was hurrying to catch up. “Then… how exactly _is_ it going to go?”

“Come with me and find out.”

Johnny followed him all the way down the beach, sullen and wary, but nothing worse.

When they reach the spot he’d selected – dark, out of the way enough to be private, and not rocky – he didn’t waste words. He turned, approached Johnny suddenly, and flipped him to the ground. “Hey-!”

“Quiet,” he said, even as they were fighting for position in the sand. “I got this. Just lie back.” He was mostly on top already, leaning close to Johnny’s face, one leg thrown over his to keep him down. “Shh.”

Johnny was still squirming around and pushing him away, but it felt only reflexive – if he were _really_ resisting, Daniel would know. “What the hell, man.”

“Shh,” Daniel said again. “Do you want it, or not?” He reached down to grope Johnny firmly over his clothes – palming him, squeezing a little, and taking a good grip the minute Johnny’s legs parted enough to let him. “That feels like yes.”

“Screw you, LaRusso.” Airy and complaining.

He stroked with purpose and Johnny got very hard, very fast. But he didn’t make fun of him for the obvious desperation; he really was not looking to get punched. “Nobody’s screwing anybody,” he said instead. “I already told you what you’re getting.”

Johnny sucked in his breath and opened his legs further, bridged his hips off the ground a little. “Shut up and give it to me then, okay?”

He laughed and shifted position, still keeping weight on Johnny’s chest, but facing his feet. “God you’re a jerk,” he said, as he opened the jeans. “I am so glad I’m not kneeling in parking lot gravel for you.”

Johnny laughed too, bridged his hips up higher so that his pants could be tugged down. He smelled like soap – he’d showered for his booty call, a consideration Daniel hadn’t really expected. (It wasn’t great soap, though. If they were going to make this a regular thing he would definitely recommend something better. But they weren’t.).

And then he got started.

* * *

“Holy shit,” he said immediately. It was the sum total of his thoughts: _holy shit._ Maybe it was just that it had been a while, maybe that it was a guy he hated instead of a chick he didn’t know… or maybe it was that LaRusso had dived down and sucked half his cock in right away like he owned it. No kissing or petting to build up to it, no teasing tongue shit, no _nothing_ except plain old dick-sucking, hard and competent.

And upside-down, too. LaRusso was crouched next to him and facing away, not kneeling between his legs like normal people, so the angle was all bizarre and the tongue was pressing against the top of his dick instead of the underside. What the fuck.

“What the fuck,” he said aloud.

LaRusso stopped and looked over his shoulder – jacking slowly with his hand, at least, instead of stopping entirely. “Problem?”

“Uh-, no, no problem. Just- wow. Yeah.”

“Yeah. You like it sloppy?”

“ _What?_ ” Coming from Daniel LaRusso of all people, it just wouldn’t compute.

“Let me rephrase. _I_ like it sloppy. Does that work for you?”

“Uh-...?”

LaRusso laughed and bent back down. This time he went _more_ than halfway, until Johnny felt the hard wall of throat… and then further, until he felt the give and squeeze of being swallowed all the way to the root.

“ _Oh fuck-._ ” So LaRusso could deepthroat. He had not seen that coming. He bucked and scrambled for something to hold on to, found sand with one hand and the back of LaRusso’s shirt with the other.

LaRusso was _moving_ on him, moving up and back one tight inch at a time. Deep, deep down in there, all the way where most people would-

 _Yup._ Johnny felt the spasm and heard him gag, a deep gurgling retch from the chest, and normally he’d apologize for causing that sound but this time he really hadn’t done it. It was absolutely LaRusso’s own fault.

“You okay?” he said as LaRusso came up for air.

“Yeah, I’m good.” LaRusso crawled around to between his legs and started jerking him off.

He gasped; it felt _fantastic_ , smooth and slick, and LaRusso’s smile was smug and he realized then that the crazy son of a bitch had done it on purpose. He’d gone too deep and gagged himself deliberately, just to make everything messy with throat slime. The wet squelching sounds were straight of a porno too dirty to watch. “You’re nuts,” he choked out.

“Did I not _just_ tell you I like it sloppy?”

He bit his lip. Guy was unbelievable.

Good, though. Fast and strong and taking cues from the hips. Five minutes in and he was halfway there, easy. Jesus. “Aright, sloppy’s fine,” he said. “Just get back on it, will you?”

LaRusso laughed. “Say please.”

“ _Please_ suck my dick some more, you fucking asshole.” Somehow that was good enough; he let out a big sigh of relief to be engulfed in warm and wet again. “Thank you,” he said, because if manners were required for this then manners it would be. “You are… really good.”

Laughter – he could feel laughter humming around him.

“Shut up.”

More laughter.

“God – how are you able to still be annoying even with a dick in your mouth?”

LaRusso pulled up. “Would you rather I take the dick _out_ of my mouth?”

“No! No no. Put it back. Put it back in. I’m sorry.” When LaRusso started again he rested a hand on the back of his neck – politely, though. Gentle and not pulling.

With the mouth busy up top and the hand down around the base it really wasn’t long. He decided to be considerate. “Hey,” he huffed, with plenty of time, “Heads up. Gonna come in a minute.”

LaRusso laughed and sucked harder, deeper, most definitely did not pull off. That was surprising, and weirdly hot, and he came almost right away. One hand buried in the sand, and the other in LaRusso’s hair.

Afterwards reality resurfaced quick. LaRusso turned, spit, and wiped his mouth. Reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of baby wipes. They cleaned themselves up without speaking, and it was impossible to reconcile this fussy little prick with the _I like it sloppy_ of a couple minutes earlier.

His dick twitched thinking about it, though. Even now. Later on after he’d had time to recover, who knew what would happen.

LaRusso watched him tuck himself away and close his jeans up. “Told you it would be good.” Smug and annoying as ever.

* * *

**TBC.**

**One more part. Which is a different flavor of raunchy, but. Still raunchy. Let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

He opened the fake Tinder profile a few days later to chuckle over the old messages. 

And there was a new one. **Meet me again. I want to talk to you.**

He swallowed. (Twice. His mouth was watering. And now he could smell that awful soap in the back of his throat again.). **_No strings means no strings, big guy. I told you I’m not looking for a boyfriend._**

Johnny answered him immediately. **I just want to talk.**

Before he could change his mind he responded: **_Fine. I’m coming to your place now._** He grabbed a jacket and thought of an excuse. _I left something at the dojo, honey_. Then he paused. He was _just_ going to talk. But still. It was never a good idea to go unprepared into anything, so he jumped in the shower first. With good body wash. 

* * *

When he got there Johnny opened the door with wet hair. He managed not to laugh.

It was awkward immediately – they spoke at the same time. “What’s up-?” “-Come in.”

He came in. Waved off Johnny’s gesture to the sad sofa, and leaned against the sad counter instead. “What’s up?” he said again.

Johnny sat on the edge of the sad table. “So I’m just trying to understand the other day.”

“I thought I was pretty clear. About everything.”

“Yeah. I know.” Johnny wasn’t looking at him; he was speaking with determination to a spot on the sad wall. “I just want to make sure I’m getting this.” Suddenly, eye contact. “You knew it was me.”

“No shit. You have a picture of your face up. And your actual first name.”

“While you… have a picture of a face up too, only it’s a babe’s face, and the name you use is fake.”

Ah, that. He put his hands in his pockets. “I like to chat with people sometimes. Amanda knows I do it. Obviously I never actually meet up with anyone. I only did it this time because I knew you.”

“See, that’s what doesn’t add up.” Johnny stood up and moved around restlessly into the sad living room. “You _do_ know me. We don’t like each other. Why would you want to suck my dick?”

“I don’t know.” It sounded like a lie, because it _was_ a lie. He tried again. “I thought it might be fun.”

“Do you usually go around offering to blow other dudes because it _might be fun_?”

“No, not usually. That was actually my first time since college.”

“Well you haven’t lost your touch,” Johnny muttered under his breath. Then plopped down on the sad couch and spoke up more firmly. “What aren’t you telling me, LaRusso?”

Daniel moved from the sad counter to the sad table. It wasn’t a very comfortable perch, so he gave up and wandered into the sad living room to lean against the sad wall. “Nothing.”

“You’re lying. You said you don’t meet guys on Tinder – but you met me. You said you don’t go around sucking cock – but you sucked mine. And you said you weren’t going to do it again, but here you are in my apartment at ten o’clock at night, fresh out of the shower.” He put his hands on his knees and finally popped the question. “Do you have a thing for me?”

“ _No._ ” He said it with as much certainty as he could, but Johnny didn’t seem convinced.

“Did you have the hots for me back in the day?”

“No!”

“Are you sure? Cause you look awfully suspicious right now. Are you, like… _blushing_?”

“N-no! Look, I _swear_ I did not have the hots for you back in the day. Okay?”

“Hm.” Johnny crossed his foot over his knee and tapped on it thoughtfully. “Okay, so… you weren’t crushing on me maybe, but... did you… hm…”

“All right!” If Johnny was going to ask a hundred questions to get to the bottom of it, he might as well just come clean. It really shouldn’t be that big a deal, as long as he didn’t make it one. “All right. Back in the day I hated you, okay?”

“Okay…”

He managed to say it without looking away: “And so one of my jerkoff fantasies was having guys hold you down so that I could-” His hand supplied the gesture.

Johnny’s eyebrows rose. “So that you could…?”

“Jack off. Onto your face. Without permission. The end.”

Johnny’s jaw dropped. “Are you _kidding_?” he said at last.

“Nope.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

“ _Wow_.” He was quiet a moment – just _watching_. Finally he said: “C’mere.”

“Absolutely not.”

Johnny sighed. “How are you going to act embarrassed in front of me _now_ , after you were slobbering all over my dick the other night?”

Because the other night it was _Johnny_ all exposed and desperate. Daniel could not for the life of him understand why people always got the power dynamics of a blowjob so backwards.

Johnny slapped the sad couch next to him. “Just come sit.”

If he did, they wouldn’t have to look at each other. He walked over and sat down. Angled to mostly give Johnny his back.

Which turned out to be the wrong move, as Johnny folded a leg underneath himself and shifted to crowd him from behind.

“So tell me about it,” he said, into Daniel’s ear. Amused? “Did you have me naked? How big was my dick?”

He held his breath. So much for _only wanting to talk_ – it was obvious Johnny was about to _do_ something to him. Should he refuse? Stand up? When he hesitated too long, one of Johnny’s arms slid tight around his chest, pinning his own arms to his sides… and the other started slithering down into his lap to open his pants.

He closed his eyes, and answered the question. “You weren’t undressed. You were wearing your gi – the white one. And your headband.”

Johnny froze a moment… then laughed softly. “Wow. Okay.” He was all the way into Daniel’s briefs by this point. “And guys were holding me down.”

“Yeah. Lot of guys.” Flashing back to that old favorite fantasy, with a hand jerking him off – this hand in particular – was making him suddenly breathless.

“Glad to hear it took a lot of them. And you were whacking off. Was I watching?”

“You had to. Guy was holding your hair.”

Johnny was quiet a minute (but didn’t stop stroking him.). Then: “You’re really messed up, LaRusso, you know that?”

He hissed. 

“What else? Tell me.”

It was crowding out all other thought anyway, so he just went ahead. “You were fighting and yelling to let go of you. The whole time. But then-… when I came it was even worse.” He said it in a rush.

“How come?”

He didn’t answer.

“I _said_ : How. Come?” Two warning yanks, from the hand currently closed around his genitals, and it seemed like a good idea to cooperate. 

“Because you wanted them to let go so you could-.. clean up. They wouldn’t.”

( _They_. As if the content of his sexual fantasies was some other people’s fault.)

“Uh huh.” Johnny continued with the hand job, breathing slow and steady in his ear. “So what you’re saying is… you used to get yourself off by thinking of me. Me… being held down with jizz all over my face that I couldn’t wash off.”

Yep, that was about right. So disgusting. And he could hear himself breathing hard over it even now. _So_ disgusting.

“So in this fucked-up little fantasy of yours, what was I saying? Was I like… _Come on, guys – let go of me. I have to wipe it off._ ” 

His breath stopped. He was suddenly so close it _hurt_. He couldn’t. Couldn’t.

Johnny went on – quiet, but fully in character. “Let me _go_ , seriously – get off me, come on!” It was _exactly_ what he had dreamed of, in exactly the tones he’d imagined. Intense and frantic, angry at first, and spilling over into desperation when that didn’t work. “Come on guys, seriously, let go of me. I can’t _believe_ you guys, let me go, you can’t leave me like this, I need to clean off!”

It was exactly what he wanted – and then Johnny went him one better. Something it had never even _occurred_ to him to want.

“LaRusso, please.” A whisper, urgent and plaintive. “Tell them to let me go, man, come on. You’ve had your fun – now let me wipe it off. Come on. Look at me.”

He came so hard he almost shot _himself_ in the face this time.

* * *

Afterwards, when he was together enough to feel thoroughly humiliated by the whole thing, he did swear up and down that that last bit had never, ever been part of it. “You were pissed off and freaking out,” he said, “But I never pictured you begging. Definitely not begging _me_.”

“And now it turns out that was the best part.” Johnny grinned at him. “I guess you’re not the only one who’s good at weird shit, LaRusso. You’re welcome.”

It _was_ good. He hated that it was that good. He definitely hated that he already knew he would be sitting around later remembering how good it was. He splashed water onto his face from the sad sink to try and make himself presentable before heading home. “Fine – thank you. Now let’s never mention any of this ever again. I’m an idiot and I should never have messaged you.”

“Can’t argue with that. No regrets here, though. You do give good head.”

He splashed more water. How was he supposed to just forget this ever happened? He really _was_ an idiot. “Yeah, I know. Thank you. And don’t message me anymore.”

Johnny shrugged. “Then don’t pretend to be a hot chick who wants to blow me anymore.”

“I definitely won’t. In fact I’m going to delete that profile.”

“Good!”

(He sort of suspected Johnny didn’t believe it. He didn’t really believe it himself.).

* * *

**The End.**

**... NOT ANYMORE. This was *supposed* to be the end, except then I wrote more, so. Oops.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Okay… I was not planning to write any more of this fic. Now I suddenly have 5000 more words written. Oops, my bad. I’ll put it up over the next few days I think.**

* * *

Johnny texted to invite him out for a drink – on his real phone, not the fake profile (which he really was going to delete. He just hadn’t gotten around to it). Given what they’d done during their last couple of meetings it seemed silly to say no. **_Public place,_ **he insisted. It should be fine. What could happen?

At first it _was_ fine. They acted almost like friends – like the past few meetings, and the last thirty-five years, had never happened. But then, two rounds in, Johnny started teasing. “So. Have you been thinking about me?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

He shrugged. Didn’t make eye contact.

Johnny laughed and bumped him with a shoulder. “Same scene?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

But this time he _wasn’t_ lying. “I’m serious,” he insisted. “Jesus, it would be illegal. You were like fifteen.”

Johnny laughed harder. “Oh my god! I didn’t even-… that’s great, man.” Then he stared off a minute, smile dimming a little as he thought back. “Actually – that would have been my senior year? I was seventeen. So you’re off the hook.” He bumped him harder. “Legally, at least. Morally I think you’re still going to hell.”

“Stop.”

“I mean, kids will be kids and all, but… you just got off to that the other day.”

“That was your fault! _You’re_ the one who-… ugh.” With a hand on his dick he hadn’t stopped to think how _utterly wrong_ that fantasy always had been and definitely was now, but the next day he had, and now he couldn’t even talk about it.

“Oh, sure. Blame the victim.” Johnny took a sip of his beer, licked his lips… and wiped his mouth, dragging his hand pointedly all across his lips and cheek. “There – did I get it?”

The teasing was merciless but for once not _mean_ ; Johnny’s smile was wide and boyish.

Which was good, actually. It made it easy to see how he and that fresh-faced jerk in the headband were one and the same, which made Daniel feel less like a pervert at least. 

Fine. He cleared his throat and looked down, shaking his head. Still without raising his eyes, he reached up and swiped a finger across the bridge of his nose, and then above his eyebrow.

He heard laughter but still didn’t look up. Johnny’s hand came down on his leg and patted him, sort of bracingly. “You are totally going to hell, man.”

* * *

Drinks with LaRusso had been much more fun than he’d expected – torturing him was a blast, and amazingly he had put up with it instead of getting upset and starting an actual fight. It was also nice not to have to be on his best behavior all evening; it wasn’t like he was going to make a good impression no matter what he did.

That night, after he’d gotten home and sobered up, he sent a text at midnight. **Just thinking about your throat.**

It was just for fun. He didn’t expect any response whatsoever. He thought the most he would get would be an order to go away.

Instead, a moment later LaRusso wrote back to him. **_Yeah, your cock fit down my throat pretty well. Too bad you’re such a jerk I’m never putting it there again._**

He stared at the phone. It was just tiny words on a tiny screen. He had just sprung a boner because of tiny words on a tiny screen.

This was a thing, though! He even remembered what it was called. **Hey you just popped my sexting cherry! Thanks, LaRusso.**

He waited, but this time there was no answer. That was disappointing, so he wrote again. **So tell me what you’ve been thinking about.**

He saw the three dots that meant that LaRusso was typing. 

He wasn’t going to reach into his boxers. Screw it: he _was_ going to reach into his boxers. Why not?

But then LaRusso’s answer came, and it was: **_Have you ever had your mouth soaped?_**

* * *

**TBC.**

**Next part is nearly done and should be up shortly. Let me know what you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Just want to manage expectations here guys: this chapter there is no sex – only soap. If that’s not your cup of tea, sit it out and wait for the compensatory skull fucking next chapter.**

* * *

“I don’t get it,” Johnny said, the next afternoon at LaRusso’s house. He’d invited himself over: **No idea what that is. 3pm tomorrow your place u tell me?** The house was empty, which was impressive on like twelve hours’ notice. He wondered if it was a sign that the plan was to show more than tell. “Are you talking about, like, when nuns go _watch your mouth or I’ll wash it out with soap?_ I didn’t know people do that in bed.”

“Not _in bed_ , it’s too messy. You’d do it in a bathroom.”

So Johnny wandered down the hall to check out the bathroom. It was pristine. Was that a sign, like a girl’s matching underwear? Or, knowing LaRusso, maybe he kept his bathroom that way all the time. “What, like, in the shower?” he called.

“The shower?” LaRusso called back. “No. You’d get a chair.” He appeared in the bathroom doorway carrying one with him. He set it down.

Johnny sat. He watched LaRusso’s reflection roll up its sleeves, slowly and calmly unbuttoning the cuffs, folding twice over, so that the forearms were exposed to the elbow. The guy was small but he did have some muscle in his forearms. Okay. 

Johnny didn’t say anything. LaRusso stepped past him and opened the medicine cabinet. “You take a bar of soap.” The sound of the box ripping open was loud in the silence. “Then you lather it up.” He turned the water on, but from here all Johnny could see was his back. “And then you scrub the guy’s mouth out with it.” He turned around, abruptly. A white, wet bar of soap in his hand. “Have you ever even _tasted_ soap, Johnny?”

He shook his head. LaRusso held it out, casual, like an invitation.

Okay. He reached out for it-

But LaRusso smacked his hand away. “Uh-uh,” he said firmly. And held the soap out with a little more insistence.

It actually took him a second to understand what he was supposed to do. When he did, it was so damn weird that he was curious, so fuck it: he leaned in, looking up a few times to make sure he was getting this right, stuck his tongue out, and touched it briefly to the bar.

“ _Euw_.” He sat back at once, scraping his tongue against his teeth, trying to get rid of the taste – and not really the _taste,_ so much as the chemical _feel_ of the stuff, irritating, spreading through his mouth. “That’s gross, man.” He was not licking it again, no matter how bad LaRusso wanted it.

“Yup.” LaRusso turned back to the sink and put the water back on.

Now that no one could see him, he wasn’t embarrassed to bring his hand up and wipe against it, hard and repeatedly, trying to make the taste go away. It didn’t really help. “Why would anyone let you do that?”

The water turned off. “I don’t know, Johnny. You tell me.” When he turned, the soap was still in his hand – even wetter now, bubbly. He put the toilet lid down and sat on it, so they were eye level. And waited.

Johnny didn’t _not_ open. LaRusso brought the soap close.

“Wider.”

This time he actually opened his mouth – and then in it went, pushed in, smearing over his lips and tongue, poisoning him with that foul taste. He pulled away, reflexively.

“Ah-ah,” LaRusso chided, without trying to stop him. “Hold still.”

He stopped tossing his head and the soap returned. LaRusso rubbed it in and out, side to side – _scrubbing,_ like he’d said – while Johnny winced and gagged and tried not to fight.

“Mm-hm. Now stick your tongue out. More – all the way.”

He did and LaRusso rubbed over it with energy, humming _mm hm!_ like this was fine. It wasn’t fine. It was _awful_ , much worse than just a bad taste - it felt caustic, seeping all the way through his tongue, into him, until he knew that just wiping the soap away would not be enough to fix things.

“Good,” LaRusso said, “That’s good. Underside now.” He touched his own tongue to his top lip, to demonstrate.

The bar was no longer touching him but he didn’t want to close his mouth; the burning foam would spread all around and make things worse. He exposed the underside of his tongue as directed, and hissed as the soap rubbed over it, making it as gross and irritated as the rest. 

His mouth had started watering and was now full of sudsy slobber; he went to swallow and gagged instead.

“No,” LaRusso said firmly, touching him on the side of the neck. “Don’t do that – you can’t swallow soap, it’s not good for you.”

“Buh’… my mou’h is full.” He was trying to talk without letting his poisoned, violated tongue touch any other surface.

“Yeah, that’s okay. Just drool it out.”

“Ih’ll get ong my ‘hsirt,” he objected.

At that, LaRusso gave him eyebrows and took on a warning tone. “You want to do this topless?”

He shook his head. “Ngo.”

“Okay, then. Just stick your tongue out.”

When he did, thick suds oozed out down to his chin – and LaRusso smiled at him. “See,” he said, “That’s why people do it by a mirror.”

Johnny only looked at himself for a second before he had to close his eyes. Mouth wide open, foamy tongue hanging out and mess dripping down his face. He looked miserable and defiled. _No wonder you like this,_ he wanted to snark, except he couldn’t because something wet and blunt and burning was shoving against his mouth. He opened for it, as wide as he could so it would _touch_ him less, and LaRusso pushed it in a little ways and then said: “Bite down.”

He did – hissing around it, trying to breathe through his nose, trying to do _something_ about the taste. Yeah, right.

“Mm-hm. Hold that there.”

He sensed movement. He opened his eyes, so that nothing would take him by surprise, and saw LaRusso coming to stand behind him. Putting hands on his shoulders. He tried not to look at himself (but he saw himself anyway. Bar of soap jammed in, mess smeared everywhere.). “There,” LaRusso said. “That’s what a mouth soaping is like, Johnny. What do you think?”

“Ih’ hucks.”

LaRusso laughed and patted him. “I know. We’ll stop now.” He came to sit down again and leaned in, very close, to examine. Touched him gently on the corner of the mouth. “You’re not exactly a lip balm guy, it looks like. You’re really chapped – I bet the soap stings like hell.” He took hold of the bar. “Okay, open.”

He did and was definitely glad to have it gone, but it didn’t actually cure his misery; his mouth still felt awful and his lips still stung. He stood and bent over the sink – LaRusso’s hand on his back, for some reason – and spit. Ran the water, took a handful and spit again.

“Wait,” LaRusso said.

He paused. “What?”

“Sit down for a second? Let me look.”

He understood the request right away, given what he knew of LaRusso’s _other_ fantasy. The prick liked to enjoy his handiwork and deny Johnny relief. One last twist of the knife.

The water was calling to him – his mouth still burned. But fine. He turned off the tap and backed up again. Sat.

It was encouraging that LaRusso put the soap down on the sink – but not encouraging that his hands were still visibly slick with it when he came close. “Head back,” he said. “Open up.”

He did it. (With a complaining groan, but. Nobody’s perfect.).

“So,” LaRusso said, and put two soapy fingers into his mouth. “We got your tongue pretty good – on top, and below.” Touching as he talked. “Normally you’d also want to get around the gums… and in the cheek over here… and the teeth too. Use a toothbrush even, lather it all up. Mm-hm. Open.” He felt the horrible soapy fingers slide back, over his tongue to the very back of his throat, right to the _edge_ of where he was about to choke on them... and stay there.

“Uh-uh,” LaRusso warned when he started to gag. “Just relax.”

He tried, but the chemical foulness so deep in his throat was too much to handle. After only a few seconds his throat clacked involuntarily, a wet sound that LaRusso recognized as the last warning you get before being puked on. “Okay,” he conceded - and slid out. (Slowly, the prick.). “Go ahead, you can rinse. All the way this time.”

He dove for the sink again and gulped water fast, swishing and spitting over and over, as fast as he could in case LaRusso changed his mind again. The whole thing hadn’t been five minutes but it was more than enough. It was _disgusting._ It _hurt_. And rinsing made it better some… but not all the way. “I need a beer,” he said, hoarsely, down into the sink bowl.

“No way,” LaRusso protested. “That’ll taste so gross.”

“Got news for you, man,” he panted between mouthfuls. “It tastes so gross anyway.”

“Here. Move over.” LaRusso pushed in next to him and opened the medicine cabinet. Found him a brand new toothbrush and some toothpaste. “Try this. It should help.”

It did, a little. So did the six-pack he put away when he got home – which didn’t do much for the lingering burning in his mouth, but did help smother his unease at the thought of how he’d just sat there and let LaRusso _do_ that to him. The more he drank the less he understood. He remembered finding the intense attention kind of heady, and he was never one to back away from a challenge, but beyond that he had no explanation at all for why he had cooperated.

Late that night he got a text: ** _If you still find yourself thinking about my throat, give me a call sometime._**

There, he told himself: _that_ was why.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Don’t worry guys, next time is less overtly kinky. It’s just Daniel being bossy and giving head. (I mean, maybe he’s so bossy that it counts as kinky after all, but…)**


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey.” Johnny opened the door and tried to keep a neutral expression; he could feel a smile coming on that might be too lovey-dovey. He couldn’t help feeling glad to see the guy, even after the horrible thing he’d done last time, because the way to his heart had always been through his dick and today his dick had been made promises. “C’mon in.”

LaRusso sniffed. “You smell good.”

“I smell like a chick.”

“No you don’t. You smell like a guy who used nice bodywash for a change.”

“Well, thanks I guess.” He’d wondered at first whether the present was part of some evil plot to get him to think of LaRusso in the shower. But that was destined to happen anyway; the plain bar of soap he used to use would have looked an awful lot like what-.

Yeah. (The new bodywash actually tasted a little less awful. He’d touched a teeny suds of it to his tongue just to see.).

“You’re welcome. Thanks for using it.” LaRusso tossed his keys on the table. “And thanks for, you know, the other day. So here I am to show my appreciation.”

“What a gentleman.”

LaRusso gave a little bow. “Indeed. Can I interest you in a little head, perhaps?”

He nodded. Came close – but didn’t touch. If it was a girlfriend, or really _any_ girl, Johnny would have reached out and pulled her close, and tried to be romantic about this, but since it wasn’t he just came out and said it straight. “So I was thinking. Last time, you wouldn’t do it kneeling down.”

LaRusso shrugged. “I don’t like people standing over me.”

“And I don’t like people putting soap in my mouth. You know it still burned when I ate breakfast the next morning?”

LaRusso’s lips tightened – it was a good point, and he had no answer. (Or… maybe he was distracted; maybe the freak thought that was _hot._ ). Finally he said: “Fine. We’ll compromise. You on the couch, me on the floor. That work for you?”

“Deal.” Johnny clapped him on the arm, which was different from the sweet French kiss he’d usually give a girlfriend who offered him a present in the sack, but it seemed more appropriate. He opened his jeans on his way to the sofa and threw himself down with enthusiasm. “Your show.”

LaRusso shook his head as he went to the floor. “You know, you’re such a romantic, Johnny. So sweet I’m gagging here.”

“I thought you like gagging. Sorry!” he added immediately, in case LaRusso got offended. “Little on edge, here.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just behave yourself.” And he crawled in close, and started sucking.

It was _good_ , again. A little bit slower and less aggressive than last time, and definitely not as deep, but it felt great and Johnny was immediately happy with it.

“Oh, man,” he groaned, rubbing the back of the neck. (Seemed like that should be an inoffensive and friendly touch?). “You really do give a good beej.”

He felt laughter. He stayed quiet a while then, just enjoying it, mumbling encouragement sometimes but mostly just running his fingers through LaRusso’s hair.

Eventually LaRusso began to bob deeper. Eventually he began to make things _sloppy._ The sound was kind of dirty, which riled him up, so he removed his hand from the hair so that he wouldn’t be tempted to pull.

LaRusso sat up. “All right, fine – do you really want to stand?” His mouth was wet and red, which made him look sort of used and was definitely at odds with the firm, sure way he was handling Johnny’s cock. “You have to do it the way I say.”

Interesting. “Do it how?” he said, and accepted a hand-up from LaRusso’s one dry hand. 

“Come over here.” LaRusso pulled him a couple steps, turned him and shoved him against the wall. “You stay like this,” he said. Reached down, and began stroking Johnny slow and hard while he talked. “If your back comes off the wall, I will stop.”

“Okay.” He would have agreed to almost anything to get that mouth back.

“If your hips come off the wall, I will stop.”

“Okay.”

He used his free hand to move Johnny’s wrists one at a time, pressing them firmly to the wall at his sides. “And if your hands come off the wall,” he said, slow and serious, “I’ll do worse than stop. I’ll bite. Do you understand me?”

Somehow the threat to his dick made it harder. He saw LaRusso notice, and he was never going to live that down, was he. “Aright, man, I hear you,” he gasped. “No grabbing. I got it.”

“That’s right. If I want to choke, I can damn well choke myself. You just stay put.”

“Yeah. Okay. Just get down there – please?”

After one more narrow-eyed look of warning, LaRusso did.

He was _good_ from his knees. Pretty soon he was going deep – sometimes _very_ deep, all the way down, with both hands holding tight to Johnny’s hips to pull himself in. It was immediately hard not to reach for him.

“Oh my _god_ , LaRusso.” Talking was all he could do. “Don’t stop. Please do not stop that. Not now, not ever. Do not stop.”

LaRusso moved one hand to his balls. It was just as competent as his mouth. “Oh shit – yes. Like that. _Mmn_!” He wanted to spread his legs but his pants were in the way. And he wasn’t allowed to move his hands to fix them. “Fuck – _fuck_ ,” he breathed, squirming. LaRusso hummed around him and he was going to bust a vein with the effort of _not_ grabbing hold of him. He knocked his head back against the wall. “Yes yes yes. Fuck come on. Please – like that.”

He felt laughter and LaRusso pulled off. “That’s good, Johnny,” he purred. His voice was a little raspy. “Keep talking. I like you verbal.”

“Jesus – well of course when- _ah_ \- oh, oh yeah yes.” He _couldn’t_ be verbal when LaRusso throated him all the way down. He banged his head against the wall again. It helped a little, but not enough. “Please –please let me touch,” he gasped out finally. That came out _way_ more romantic than he meant it but hopefully LaRusso would understand?

LaRusso unswallowed him slowly, sat back and took over with his hand. “Is it just that you want to _touch?_ ” he said. “Or is it that... instead of just getting sucked off, you want to pound into my mouth like you’re fucking me?”

He thought about lying, but his dick had just twitched hard in LaRusso’s hand so there was no way he’d get away with it. “I mean… I can be a _little_ polite about it?” he tried.

LaRusso laughed. Still stroking, still looking up at him. Thinking. “Tell you what,” he said at last. “Okay. If you go lie down, I’ll let you be rough from the bottom.”

“ _Yes_. Awesome. You’re the man.” LaRusso was looking towards the couch but fuck _that_ ; he didn’t want to take the time and so he dropped down right there, flat on his back on his gross carpet. He tugged his pants just past his ass and drew his knees up so he’d be able to bridge hard, and tugged LaRusso by the arm. “C’mon, I want you back on me, like, _yesterday_. Come on.”

LaRusso moved beside him – he was going to do it upside-down again. _Yes._ He put his hand around the base of Johnny’s dick and bent to take the rest in his mouth.

“Okay – yes-.” Johnny finally spread a hand on the back of his head and pushed down. Thrust up with his hips at the same time. He didn’t get in all the way though, because of LaRusso’s sloppy fist.

“Hey, get that out of there.” He smacked at the wrist. “You don’t need that bullshit. I know you can take it all the way down.” He took his hand from the back of the head and rubbed a shoulder instead. “Come on – you got this.”

LaRusso sighed loudly, shaking his head like he was exasperated, like Johnny was being greedy. But, he moved the hand.

This time, when Johnny bridged up and pulled down he sank all the way. “Oh shit fuck god yes.” He tried to take it easy, a little – not speed up the pace _too_ much, not hold LaRusso down when he wanted to pull away for air – but still, pounding up into that perfect wet squeeze was next-level amazing. “Oh man. Gonna come in a minute,” he said, after not long at all. “It’s just too. Fucking. Much. So good.”

LaRusso was pretty well occupied trying to breathe around the dick in his throat, but he still squeezed Johnny’s leg like he’d heard the compliment.

“You ready for it?”

“ _Mmn._ ”

Okay, so at the end he really was rough – slamming his hips up and yanking the head with both hands, skullfucking him with abandon, but it was only a couple of seconds before he erupted. Right down the throat, holding him still for it.

When he let go LaRusso ripped free and gasped in air loudly.

“Yeah sorry – thank you – sorry,” he managed in a rush, still spasming and twitching. He’d give anything to have that mouth take him down slowly, just stay soft and wet around him until he came back down to earth. Maybe next time, if he wasn’t such a savage at the end.

But of course, they weren’t going to do a _next time_ , they’d already established that.

“Whoa,” he said, still trying to regain the ability to breathe. Was LaRusso mad at him?

Where _was_ LaRusso?

“Hey,” he said, louder. “Where’d you go?”

He answered from the kitchen. “I’m right here.” _Definitely_ raspy. And maybe a little annoyed, but not too bad. “Just getting something to clean up with. You don’t have any wipes or anything?”

“Nah, man, just… paper towels.” Which he forgot the word for, for a moment. He started to laugh.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just, I think you sucked me stupid. Do you have any idea how good that was?”

LaRusso laughed too, now. He came and sat close, and held out a damp paper towel. “Yeah, well, you were still tasting soap the next day, so. You earned it.”

He’d pretty much be willing to eat soap for every meal if he got this in exchange, but, they’d already said they weren’t doing this anymore so he kept that fact to himself.

* * *

**TBC.**

**Okay, I’ve got just one more part written: a finish for Daniel, since I feel bad sending him home unsatisfied. It’s pretty tame compared to the rest, I guess. :-)**


	6. Chapter 6

He sat down on the sad couch and waited for Johnny to peel himself up off the sad floor. It took a while, which he was proud of, and he wasn’t going to _rush_ things, but he was looking forward to getting out of here so that he could get home and get some time alone with his thoughts and his nice raw throat, and take care of business. He had to wait though – he wasn’t the note-on-the-dresser type, even for a no-strings one-night stand with an enemy. (Which this totally _was_.).

When Johnny finally got up, and zipped up, his first move was towards the sad kitchen. “You want a drink?”

“No thanks.”

“You want a handie? I know my hookup etiquette,” he added from inside the sad fridge. A can tab popped.

“Yeah Johnny, you’re a real prince,” he sniped reflexively. Then frowned – that came out _mean_ , and he had no idea why he’d said it. “Actually you weren’t bad. Sorry. Just on edge over here.”

Johnny leaned against the sad counter, drinking. Apparently still too dazed and mellow to get offended. “If you’re on edge you know what to do about it. I don’t mind watching.” He smirked. “Even without someone holding my hair.”

“You’re an asshole,” he said, but he was already opening his pants. Home was too far away. And there were some things here that he couldn’t get at home anyway. “Hey – would you c’mere?” Nodding to the space between his spread-open legs.

Johnny hesitated. “I don’t give head.”

If they were going to make this a regular thing (they weren’t) he’d want to talk about that, but for now Daniel pushed it aside; he was busy. “That’s fine. Just come here.”

Johnny finished his beer and crushed the can, then came over. He went to his knees – laying both hands on Daniel’s thighs a moment to balance as he lowered himself. The grip, the weight, made his presence very _real_. “Yeah – do that,” Daniel ordered, breathless. “Touch me. Just like that is fine.”

“What – this?” Johnny put his hands back where they were, kneading slowly. And watching him, which made Daniel so self-conscious he had to close his eyes. “You like this?” He picked one hand up and slapped it back down again, almost hard enough to sting. Rubbed with authority. “Hm? Feels good?”

It was nothing more than a trainer might do for a sore quad muscle, but yes, it did. He nodded.

“Hard, like this?”

“Mm hm. That’s nice.”

“Yeah?” Johnny smacked him again, this time more sharply. “Then why aren’t you looking at me? What are you thinking about, LaRusso?”

He was thinking about Johnny sitting utterly compliant in his bathroom, which really didn’t jive with the forceful way he was touching now. But he didn’t want either the touching or the thinking to stop.

“Mind your own business,” he said. “Just keep going.”

“Bossy little prick,” Johnny muttered, but kept going. “If I didn’t just get the throat job of the year from you I wouldn’t be this nice.” Daniel shivered. “But I did, so. Just tell me what you want.”

He wanted-… so much. But he wasn’t about to mess with a winning system. “Shh – I’m good, I got it,” he murmured. “Just keep on like that.” He was doing great – though now the direction of his thoughts had changed. _Throat job of the year_. It had definitely been hot. And it beat to hell jacking off dry, which he was currently doing. Next time he wasn’t going to wash his hands after; he was going to take his own slime that he’d gagged up all over Johnny’s dick, and jerk himself off with it. (Yes. And the way he’d do it is he’d slick his hand up by giving Johnny a few _very firm_ strokes after he was already finished. That would probably be tough on him; he seemed so sensitive after he came. He’d have to be ordered in advance to hold still for it. He probably could.)

He was getting there. He opened his eyes. It was a shame to lose the massage, which felt great and was inching closer and closer to his groin, but if he had to prioritize, he knew what he wanted _most_.

“Do me a favor?” he said. Johnny nodded up at him, encouraging. “Don’t say anything – don’t tease me. Just: stay on your knees there, and put your hands behind your back.” Johnny went still – hands still warm on his thighs – like he was thinking about it. Like he knew exactly why Daniel wanted to see that and exactly what Daniel was thinking about as he stroked himself off.

“Don’t worry,” he added, “I won’t _do it_.”

“But you _could,_ right?”Johnny kept his expression serious. He put his hands behind his back as requested – and even arched to push his chest out, as if he were struggling against the position. He sat back on his heels like that, and raised his chin. Made steady eye contact. “I’m right here, LaRusso. You can.”

* * *

Afterwards it was Johnny’s turn to fetch the wet paper towels. LaRusso had come into his fist – clapping his other hand over top as if to make _sure_ he didn’t go and _do it_ , even though technically he had been invited to.

Would it _actually_ have been okay if he had? Johnny wasn’t sure. Luckily he didn’t have to figure it out; LaRusso had taken his offer in the spirit it was meant. It had blasted him off almost immediately.

They were getting disturbingly good at this. Both of them. They really needed to stop.

But just in case they didn’t, he added _wipees_ to his shopping list, which otherwise consisted of just pizzarolls, toilet paper, and beer.

But they were totally going to stop.

* * *

**THE END.**

**Like them, I am totally going to stop. Srsly.**

**Thanks for coming along on this bizarre ride, and thanks so much to everyone who wrote comments! Hope you enjoyed?**


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Apologies if this one is full of errors – I’ve been super busy and def did not put as much editing in as usual. This has been stuck in my head though, so I wanted to get it up. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**_Hey._ **

**Hey.**

**_I watched you guys’ demo today. You’re crazy to go live like that. Is your nose broken?_ **

**Oh come on! That wasnt live, we planned it. Im good. You know I bleed easy.**

**_Hey listen._**

**Hello? STill there larusso?**

**_Yeah listen. Maybe I have some naughty nurse fantasy or something because when I saw that today I wanted to sit you down and fix you up._ **

**_Hey. Still there asshole??_ **

**Yeah im just thinking. Thats nicer than what you usually want to do to me.**

**_I’m serious. If you ever find yourself bleeding in my vicinity again, let me know. You’ll be glad you did._ **

* * *

One week later.

**Hey.**

**_Hey._ **

**If cutup knuckles float your boat, come over. im at the dojo by myself.**

**_On my way._ **

* * *

Cobra Kai was mostly dark when he arrived. Johnny opened the door for him and let him in, and it wasn’t until he was all the way inside with his shoes off that he noticed: “You’re not hurt.”

Johnny was in gi pants and a tank top, stretching lazily. “Yeah, not yet – I didn’t start yet.” He nodded to-

-the training frame set out on the mat loaded with wood. _Hard_ wood, unreasonably thick for punching. He thought immediately of Terry Silver and how he would never, ever, _ever_ do an exercise like that again or ask it of his students, never, not ever.

He found his voice too slowly; Johnny was already squared up in front of the thing before he said: “Don’t.”

“Why not?” Cheerful - no dread whatsoever. “This is how you get tough, man. Gotta keep the edge.”

“Because I don’t want to see someone hurt himself,” he insisted. “Even you.”

Johnny shrugged. “Then close your eyes. I’ll be done in a second.”

He tried looking away, but that didn’t help; the unmistakable sound of fist on wood made him flinch like a girl. 

_Just look, for God’s sake, it’s not a big deal._ There was no strain at all in Johnny’s _kiai_ (and he was disturbed to realize that he knew the sound well enough to tell). Even after a number of repetitions.

So finally he peeked, just in time to see one heavy board crack, and Johnny shake his hand out and move to the higher one - smiling. 

_Fine._ He came close... and Johnny turned the smile _on_ him, and it was smug. He rolled his eyes.

He tried not to wince visibly when blood appeared on the wood. Or when the next couple of strikes added to it and smeared it around. The left hand started first and the right followed. 

“Aright. This time I got it.” Johnny took a breath, hit once more with a firm yell and cracked the board. Hit it one more time, so that the pieces separated entirely and fell from the frame. 

He turned to face Daniel, breathing a little hard, and straightened up as if coming to attention. Daniel couldn’t interpret his look; it was opaque and faraway.

He didn’t rub or wipe or even look down. _Jesus, that’s better discipline than I ever had._ Which made him remember, again, the sessions with Terry Silver.

“Down,” he said, quiet and hard. “Fifty pushups, on your knuckles. Now.” Mr. Silver used to say twenty. But they weren’t kids now and that wouldn’t have the same impact – and he wanted the impact. He wanted to give the command out loud, and see the flash of dismay when it was received.

That’s _all_ he wanted – he did not expect it to go any further than Johnny flinching and saying no – or flinching and _not_ saying no, and letting Daniel generously excuse him on his own.

But Johnny didn’t flinch or say no at all – he just nodded once and dropped down.

The first ten were perfect, and so fast they were over before Daniel could even get his head together to say _stop I didn’t mean it._ A short pause and then a second ten, just as good and almost just as fast. After that Johnny reset himself a little, shifting his bloody hands on the mat and repositioning his feet. How long had it been since he’d soldiered through a set like this on command? As he continued and it was obviously starting to become difficult, Daniel shifted the way he was standing because-

Because his pants were constricting him. That was unexpected, and in the pause after thirty he saw a tremor and that made things even worse.

The fourth set were still reasonably clean, but slow – this was hard, steady _work_ and Johnny shined with sweat. He wasn’t stopping or complaining, though; he was doing what he was told. There was no way for Daniel to stand that wasn’t uncomfortable. He reached down and squeezed himself, firmly, as if touching once would somehow scratch the itch.

Right. He held on as Johnny gathered himself and started his last set, visibly shaking and breathing loud enough to hear. (The quality of the pushups had now definitely deteriorated, but Daniel couldn’t see a single thing wrong with that. A straight back and steady pace would have been much less satisfying.). He let go in time not to be noticed, and watched forty-nine and fifty with his arms crossed.

Johnny stood and returned to attention, breathing hard and fast and through his nose. Sweat slid down his neck.

 _Jesus_ that should not be as arousing as it was. Daniel nodded. Imagined saying: _I liked that, and I want to push you until you break._ Actually said: “Okay. Now go get your bleach and clean that blood off the mat.”

Johnny’s mouth twitched like he was going to answer. He didn’t. Back in the day when he got ordered around he used to snap _yes Sensei_ as a reflex, and Daniel was willing to bet that that’s what was on the tip of his tongue.

Fuck, he should not have done this, any of this; he’d had a clear idea in mind coming over here and then he’d been thrown way off course and now he’d let himself become too turned-on even to think. 

He needed to distract himself. The blood on the mat and Johnny’s nonchalance about it made him wonder what else these mats had been through. It was a good thing he’d kept his socks on at least so he didn’t have to worry about picking up athlete’s foot, but he could definitely see plenty of bloodstains around now that he was looking for it. All faded, cleaned, but still, Cobra Kai would probably be better off with patterned floors to hide the inevitable stains when they happened.

There, that was better. Thinking of dojo maintenance helped him get himself back under control. By the time Johnny returned he felt almost normal again.

(Of course, some of that control was lost when Johnny knelt down to wipe up his own blood and sweat. A little more when Johnny cursed and shook his hand out after the bleach spray got into it.).

Once the mats were clean, it was time to return to the planned activities. “Okay,” he said, “I brought first aid stuff. Let’s go into your office.”

“Sure.”

Johnny sounded unruffled, but still he felt like he owed an explanation. “In case you’re wondering,” he said, on the way across the dojo, “I don’t want to talk about this, but, I had an abusive trainer once – not Mr. Miyagi, obviously – who had me do stuff like that, and it’s a bad memory, and it caught me by surprise. That’s why I was a little off at first. I’m good now.”

Johnny nodded. Turned to him in the office doorway. “So that’s what was going on, when you had me get down. Gotta admit I did not see that coming.”

“Sorry – I’m sorry.” He laughed a little. Followed him in. “Jesus, I didn’t mean to make you do it. I just… was thinking about it, and I wanted to say the words.” _Wanted to feel the power,_ was more like it, but he couldn’t make himself admit that.

Johnny reached across his chest to rub at his triceps. “No problem. Thanks for jumping in so quick to stop me.”

Daniel glared. “Aright, wiseass. We’re starting with peroxide.” He gestured to the desk. “Sit down.”

* * *

LaRusso would be the worst nurse in the universe. He took _forever,_ cleaning every splinter and speck of dirt away with an alcohol-soaked Q-tip, speck by speck by speck. (It turned out there was no hydrogen peroxide in his first aid kit, luckily. Johnny hated the bubbles.).

He grit his teeth against the sting and stayed still. Once the alcohol was done it actually got worse though; without pain to distract him, the feeling of being fussed over made him so self-conscious he almost got up and ran away.

LaRusso started examining each of his knuckles one by one, shifting and pressing, checking the bones in his hands. (Like he wouldn’t know if he’d hurt himself! Like he didn’t have long and varied experience punching boards, and walls, and heads.). “I didn’t break anything,” he protested, and was immediately shushed.

So he shushed. And tried not to squirm as LaRusso continued handling him, frowning in concentration like this was something important. It took way longer than it should have, he was positive. No one had ever paid this much attention to his individual fingers before. It was a relief when they moved on to antibiotic ointment and bandaids. That was for his right hand, which wasn’t in bad shape. For his left, which was raw and bleeding pretty much across the board, LaRusso covered the ointment with a nonstick pad and about five miles of gauze, wrapped methodically around his hand and between his fingers if he were bracing for under gloves. 

“That’s way overkill,” he pointed out, “But a good wrap. Since when do you box?”

“I don’t. Amanda taught me – she does kickboxing.”

“Ooh, sexy.”

LaRusso paused. Looked up at him from under scowly eyebrows. “You want to go out there and do more pushups?”

He grinned. Getting under the guy’s skin never, ever got old.

LaRusso shook his head and went back to what he was doing. Johnny let him; whatever the hell he was getting out of it was a mystery, but it wasn’t bothering anybody. When everything was finally tied and taped he sat back. “There. All done. Better?”

“Yeah.” It was the truth. This kind of thing would heal quick if you took care of it – or reopen and bug you and eventually scar, if you didn’t. “Thanks.”

He stood and looked down at LaRusso’s pants, which were still visibly tented (though not like before, when it seemed he might blow without even touching). “You, uh… want something?”

LaRusso swallowed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He came to kneel behind the chair and reached around – luckily, his right hand was the one without the wrap. LaRusso was rock-hard and gasped when touched; it was going to be quick. “Good thing we didn’t bust me up _too_ bad,” he murmured after a bit, “Or I wouldn’t be able to help get you off. Hm?”

He heard LaRusso hiss. Right idea. “Yeah, are you-… okay to…?”

It wasn’t hard to figure out his lines. “Yeah. It’s a little sore, but don’t worry about it. I can do this.” (It wasn’t even really a lie, actually. When he gripped tight he could feel the day’s activities in his fingers.). Hm. What else? Ah. “You’re going to have to warn me before you come though, okay? I think jizz would sting if it gets in the cuts.”

“ _Fuck,_ Johnny.” Breathless. No wonder, after this long of being on edge. 

“Well I guess if it does I can always ask you to clean it out and put on more bandaids. Right? You would if I needed it, wouldn’t you?”

LaRusso sat with that a minute and that was all it took.

* * *

**TBC.**

**There’s a short second part to this, should be up soon.**

**I kind of like how no matter how personal Daniel wants to get with *him,* Johnny recognizes that what's wanted from him is more a cameo than anything else. He's sort of a guest in Daniel's head.**


	8. Chapter 8

On the way back home Johnny started regretting inviting company. It had been a long day, and whatever the hell they just did had worn him out more than he realized. He was exhausted. Getting his dick sucked by LaRusso was pretty much an athletic activity, and required him to wash up first, which was going to be a royal pain now that he had a gauze wrap to keep dry, and what he most wanted at this moment was to flop down and pass out.

Too late though – he’d said to come over, and the guy was following his car at a distance of about six inches, and parked next to him, and followed him inside. All set to pounce...

…Or not. Even after the door was locked he didn’t grab, and his voice was mild when he asked: “If I wasn’t here, what would you be doing?”

Shrug. “I dunno. Probably drinking and watching something stupid on TV.”

“Okay. Sit down and find something – I’ll get you a beer.” He gave a pat on the back as he walked past, slow enough almost to be a rub. Weird. Apparently he just wanted to hang out? Maybe he needed some time to come down before heading home to the wife.

Johnny sat in the middle of the couch, behind the coffee table so he could put his feet up, but then LaRusso came and ordered: “Scoot over.”

He resented being required to move, but fine. “You like Bloodsport?”

LaRusso opened the bottle and handed it to him. “I’m not planning on watching the movie.” He walked around to Johnny’s end of the couch.

Oh. “Now?” he said. “Don’t you want me to shower?”

LaRusso shrugged. “If you got sweaty it’s because I made you,” he pointed out. “Be kind of a dick move to complain about it, don’t you think?”

He had a feeling there was actually more to it than that, but questions had never been exactly encouraged here. He tipped his beer in salute and took a sip.

LaRusso knelt down and reached for his drawstring. “You just watch your stupid movie. I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay.” It should worry him, maybe, that he was now able to spring a boner just from getting bossed around by Daniel LaRusso.

…Well, bossed around _and blown._ He could live with that. He had no expectation of being able to actually watch the movie once LaRusso got going though; his blow jobs were kind of overwhelming enough to compete even with Jean-Claude Van Damme.

Usually. But it turned out this time was different. Even once Johnny was all the way hard and ready, LaRusso didn’t kneel up high for a good angle to ram himself down - instead he kept working almost gently, sucking soft and shallow and with plenty of tongue.

Perfect. Johnny let his hand fall on the shoulder. “Mm. Taking it easy this time?”

LaRusso pulled off long enough to answer. “Figure you’ve had enough excitement for one night, huh?” He gave a slow stroke with his hand. “You just relax. I got it.”

He settled down, sank deeper into the couch. Kept his hand where it was.

And wrapped the other tight around his beer; the cold was good for swelling.

* * *

“Hey.” LaRusso sounded almost drugged. Took his mouth off and sat up a little.

The sound roused him out of his contented daze and he assessed his place in the movie. Probably twenty minutes had passed, him just hanging out on his couch getting the laziest, most comfortable head in the world. “Hm?”

“How about I swallow this time.”

He’d never really cared whether a person swallowed or not – what did it matter? But now that the guy was making an issue of it, suddenly it _did._ His voice felt like it wouldn’t come out right so he just nodded, small and fast.

“Good.” He held eye contact, stroking. “I won’t have you all the way down my throat,” he clarified, “That doesn’t count.” Count? “You come right in my mouth, and I’ll swallow it.” Licked his lips.

 _Fuck_. He nodded again, even sharper this time, and made his first pushy move of the whole night: a tug on the shoulder, like _come on._

LaRusso laughed a little and then cooperated, swooping down with some of his usual energy, sucking hard, getting both hands involved. Still not as deep as usual though. _You come right in my mouth._

“Ah, shit,” he breathed. “Yeah – okay, yeah.” He tried to stop talking; babbling felt sort of pathetic when all he was getting was regular oral. What kind of sex-starved loser lost his mind over _that?_ He shut his mouth so that all that came out was a groan in his throat. “ _Mmn_.”

LaRusso pulled off. “Go ahead and make noise for me. I like it.”

He pressed his lips together and glared. _No._

LaRusso _licked him._ And opened his mouth to talk right against the head of his dick. “Come on,” he said, licking and pursing his lips to suck in between the words. “I’m going to let you blow your load in my mouth, Johnny. The least you could do is tell me it’s good for you.”

“You already know it’s good, assh- _Oh-._ ” He did moan aloud once, when LaRusso sucked hard while he was talking, but then he got himself under control again. “Mn _._ ”

“Johnny.” If he didn’t stop stopping, Johnny was going to kill him. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You know they make gags that hold your mouth open, right?”

His mouth _fell_ open at that.

LaRusso shrugged. “I’m just _saying._ ” And got back to work.

The work was _good._ Totally aside from the threat (which he tried to immediately forget and not imagine, and didn’t quite succeed, but almost), it was worth sacrificing a sliver of pride for. So, when he got close enough to _need_ there to be no more stopping, he finally caved and gave the guy what he wanted. “Aright okay,” he said, “Okay, just-. Don’t stop. Okay? Just keep going, man I’m almost there. It’s good, keep going, like that, that’s perfect. Yeah.”

Still going, LaRusso looked up. _I’m going to let you blow your load in my mouth, Johnny._ Lips clamped around just the head, tongue pressing at him, while a hand with a very good grip jacked away.

“Yeah – yeah okay, I’m there, don’t stop, I’m there I’m there, just don’t stop, shit yeah yeah _ah-_!” He fought the urge to throw his head back and instead came with eye contact. He watched LaRusso wince a little but keep sucking right through. Kneel up afterwards with his mouth open a second so you could see it on his tongue, then close and swallow with determination.

Oh _fuck_ that was hot. Why was that hot? It was hot. Oh fuck. Still shaking with the aftershocks, he sat up enough to get hold of LaRusso under the arm and pull him up, hard, dragging him onto the couch and into his lap. _There._ Something to hang on to while he tried to catch his breath. 

But even once he’d caught his breath he didn't let go. He’d thought he was exhausted _before?_ No: _this_ was exhaustion. He was really, truly done.

LaRusso held still a while. Eventually though, he had to be a prick again. Cleared his throat pointedly. “Did I seriously wreck you so bad you need a _hug_?”

His face flamed but fuck it, he was not moving. “Double underhooks.”

LaRusso snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

* * *

**The End.**

**Once again, perhaps this is the end. It’s supposed to be, but. We shall see.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Just a teeny little coda to their last scene. A bit mushy, but, it's Christmastime! So here you go. :-)**

* * *

After he extricated himself from the lunk’s nonconsensual _snuggling,_ he was all ready to rinse his mouth out and head home. But from behind him Johnny groaned, sounding about three quarters asleep: “Hey. Go get me a blanket. And then I’ll let you do whatever weird shit you want next time, promise.”

He made a face – references to _next time_ were a clear violation of the unspoken rules they were operating under. It didn’t feel like he had grounds to complain, though – it wasn’t like Johnny was making a demand on _him._

So he sighed and let it go. “I’m going to hold you to that,” he grumbled. “What do you want, your covers from your bed?”

“Mm. Yeah. Down the hall.”

“Pillow too?”

“Yeah.”

He deadpanned “Fine, but pillow costs extra,” and went to go fetch. He tried not to look around – it was _way_ too intimate to be scoping out the guy’s bedroom, taking in the unfolded laundry, the crushed beer cans, the dresser with a bottle of cologne Daniel was willing to bet had gone out of production before 1990.

Whoops, he’d just done it. Oh, well.

He collected up the bedding and carried it back to the living room. It made too big an armful not to wind up in his face, and now he was _smelling_ the guy too. Ugh.

He whacked him in the head with the pillow before stuffing it under him, and dumped the comforter unceremoniously on top.

Johnny pawed at it a second and gave up, so with a huge sigh of exasperation Daniel shook it out for him and settled it better. “There.” Syrupy sweet. “All tucked in.”

“Thanks, man,” Johnny mumbled. “See you later.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Night.”

* * *

**The End.**

**Okay, this really _could_ be the end. I assume once the new season comes out I’m going to be all sucked in with new ideas, so maybe I won’t post any more on this one. But as always, who knows!**


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Warning this chapter for some activity that is mean and takes place without consent.

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

**_Hey. You okay after last night?_ **

**Hey. Could you NOT send me gay texts like that where anybody could see it? Make up a secret code or something.**

**Also, stop being such a girl.**

**_Well screw you too, Johnny. Next time I won’t even check in._ **

**Good.**

* * *

**Hey.**

* * *

**Hey.**

* * *

**Hey. Are you mad at me Danielle?**

* * *

**Hey. If you don’t start answering texts Im coming to your house.**

**_I’m not there._ **

**I don’t believe you, its 7 at night. You never go anywhere – except to my place. And I know youre not here, or id see you.**

**_AVC meeting – cant talk._ **

**Is that a fancier version of AA? You should leave. Quitters never prosper.**

**_All Valley Committee you lunatic asshole._ **

**Youre at the meeting right now?**

**_Yeah._ **

**Ok. Thats at the arena?**

**_Why???_ **

**No reason**

**_Johnny what the hell I swear._ **

**_Johnny_ **

**_Johnny seriously_ **

**_Johnny do not come over here im serious dont fuck with me here im in a meeting it’s not funny._ **

**Hellooooo Danielle! I see you!**

**_NNo_ **

**Im here. Im in the hallway peeking through the door. Look im going to wave**

**_GTFO_ **

**Man I cant keep up with all these kid texting acronyms. Whats that, is that like m4m?**

**_NO_ **

**Yes. Yup. Id move the phone off ur lap if I were you bc youre really not going to want to draw attention to ur dick right now. You don’t have to answer, u can just read.**

**_NO. IM TURNING THIS OFF._ **

**If you do ill come in. Ill sit right up front. So u can see me texting and youll know ur phone is filling up with text after text about dicks dicks dicks diccckkkkkskssssss**

**_Johnny what the hell is the matter with you_ **

**I dont know.**

**So I was thinking about last week. When you watched me break boards. And made me do stuff.**

**I know you liked pushing me around. I know you liked that I let you. Especially when it was hard or it hurt.**

**I have no problem with that. Its ok.**

**Dont look at me like that, its seriously ok. I can take it.**

**Is there more stuff like that you want to try?**

**You look pretty red from here. That’s a yes?**

**Hey the fat guy sees that youre not paying attn. Ill be quiet for a sec so you can fake like you care about this bullshit.**

**Ill just hang out out here. Maybe jack off a little while im waiting.**

**_NO public bldg_ **

**You never got lucky in a public building before? Wanna hit the bathrooms after this and ill fix that for you?**

**Larusso you are SO RED. How do you have enough blood to power that much blush and a boner at the same time?**

**Dont cross your legs like that its even more suspicious. Fat guy is looking again.**

**You are going to do something SO BAD to me for this, aren’t you.**

* * *

He was so angry (and so turned-on) that he almost didn’t make it to the end of the meeting - almost had to pretend he was sick and flee the room and commit murder right there with the committee all listening.

The minute the clock struck he got up and left as fast as was even remotely socially acceptable. He pushed past the handful of spectators and stomped out into the hallway – and caught sight of a trademark Johnny Lawrence smirk for about a tenth of a second before it disappeared into the men’s room.

He charged in all ready to give Johnny a piece of his mind and storm out again-

But someone grabbed him and swung him around.

A hand behind his head was the only thing that stopped him from braining himself against painted cinderblock; he hit the wall so hard he _oofed_ out half his air.

A thigh was in between his and Johnny was _grinding_ on him, like he was a drunk girl at a club, and (it was exactly what he needed but) he shoved and fought like a wild animal until he was let go.

“Are you _fucking crazy,_ ” he spat.

“Relax, Danielle. No one’s in here, I checked.”

“You- you embarrassed me in my meeting! After I said not to! What part of _no_ was giving you trouble?”

“I didn’t embarrass you.” Johnny didn’t even have the grace to look sorry, not a little, not at all. “Everyone just thought you were zoning out because of how _boring_ it was. Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!”

Johnny’s eyes darted down briefly. “Yeah, that doesn’t look calm to me. You want me to do something about it?”

Yeah _right._ The idea of letting him close was so unacceptable he couldn’t believe Johnny had even mentioned it. “Don’t fucking touch me.”

At that he looked surprised. Even a little uncertain. “Okay. Sorry. I just thought-…”

“You _didn’t_ think. As usual.” His dick was _throbbing_ for attention; at this rate _he_ couldn’t think either. He was so angry. He was so aroused. **I can take it,** Johnny’s text had said, (jesus, _those texts_ ) _,_ and so it was totally fair of him to surge forward and grab two hands full of Johnny’s shirt and spin him towards the toilet stalls. “Get in there.” _Shoving_ with all his strength. Johnny fell back into a door, through it and onto the toilet. 

Daniel crowded in after him, slammed and locked. There was _no_ space. He hiked his pants up and prayed that stretch meant stretch, and stepped a foot up on the toilet tank behind Johnny’s shoulder. Unzipped and pulled his cock out.

“Shut up,” he said, unnecessarily since Johnny hadn’t yet tried to say anything. He reached down and grabbed him by the face, gripping his cheeks hard, covering his mouth. Fisted himself with his other hand, brushing against Johnny’s temple when he started jerking himself off.

“Is this what you wanted?” he snarled. “Huh? Because now you’re getting it. You _asked_ for this, Johnny. Brought it on yourself.” Johnny shifted underneath him, made some indistinct noise that might have been a question, or a protest. _Good._ He plowed right over it; jerked harder. He was gasping for breath. “And now you’re going to get-.” Gasp, gasp. “ _Exactly_ what you deserve _._ ”

 _Oh God_. He looked down at blond hair and his own hand moving and that was it, he was falling over the edge already, it was _happening_ and he was barely together enough to rear back a little and aim – but he did it. Watched himself ejaculate right on Johnny’s cheekbone, holding him in place.

He stood still. Staring. Time seemed totally frozen, except that the mess was oozing in slow motion down Johnny’s face.

He let go. Johnny didn’t move – eyes closed and mouth open, panting as if he’d just _done_ something, something other than sit there and get-…

Daniel couldn’t believe it. He leaned back so he could get a better look. He couldn’t believe it.

He stroked up his dick one last time, squeezing out the last drops.

Wiped it on Johnny’s hair.

Suddenly it was much too claustrophobic in here. Too… _real._ He was coming down fast and he felt kind of smothered for some reason, so he fumbled for the lock behind him and struggled around the door, out of the tiny space.

In the doorway he could breathe a little better. He tucked himself away and closed up his pants, and Johnny was facing him now, staring up at him looking nothing at all but shellshocked.

With come dripping down his face. Just like…

He had to do it. He stepped in close once more, leaned down and put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “How’d you like _that,_ huh? Don’t fuck with me, Johnny Lawrence.” His head spun with hearing it out loud, finally. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

He stood up and walked out.

Thirty-five years, but it was totally worth the wait.

* * *

…Okay.

He was sitting on a disgusting toilet in a disgusting public bathroom and there was jizz on his face. And in his hair. And still he was just… sitting there.

It was too hot in here. And he was still working on breathing. Part of that was the hand that had held too long and tight over his mouth and nose, not long or tight enough to make him pass out, but definitely long and tight enough to make him dizzy.

Part of it was just shock. Shock that LaRusso had _done_ that to him, that he hadn’t fought back and put a stop to it. The whole thing was just-... shock. Shock, even though they had pretty much talked through this exact scenario when they first embarked on this fucked-up journey all those hookups ago. _Jack off. Onto your face. Without permission._ Talking about it was one thing but it turned out that having it done to him was something else entirely; all he could do was sit here and feel blank. 

Blank, and reluctant to move. If he moved it would all be real, and the slow tickle he could feel on his cheek would actually be-.

Yeah.

He reached over and pulled some shitty school toilet paper from the roll and wiped his face. _I have to wipe it off,_ he remembered saying – almost a joke at the time, a crazy thing he said for crazy LaRusso’s crazy benefit…

But now, no matter how hard he scrubbed it wouldn’t _come_ off; he could still feel it sticky on his skin.

 _What the actual fuck._ He rubbed so hard the toilet paper fell apart and he had to get another wad and try again.

After a few minutes of mechanically scraping at himself he realized this was going nowhere, and also he didn’t want to be sitting on a disgusting public toilet anymore. He got up – his hip popped from being contorted that long – and stepped out to the sinks.

He looked oddly normal in the mirror, except for the violently red patch on his cheek and the vacant thousand-yard stare. He felt like he should look more… destroyed. LaRusso certainly seemed to feel he had done some destruction.

 _I’m not afraid of you anymore._ There was no doubt where _that_ had come from; that wasn’t something that fifty-year-old Daniel LaRusso needed to have handy. That was something the freak had been carrying with him for decades now, just holding onto it and waiting for the chance to-…

He shook his head, looking at himself. “He’s crazy,” he said aloud.

Except, _he_ was the one standing here talking to himself with jizz in his hair, so, maybe it wasn’t really time to throw stones. “Get your shit together, Lawrence,” he told himself. Nodded at himself. Ran the water and started to clean up.

After he’d washed his face and the part of his hair that needed it, he was soaking wet but felt a lot more normal. He dried off and tried out a couple of facial expressions – disbelief, anger, surprise, even a smile – and decided they looked okay. (His smile looked a little off, but his smile _always_ looked a little off in the mirror so he could let that go.).

He left the bathroom. The hallways were deserted now. Luckily he knew the way out, even with the lights down. 

* * *

**TBC.**

**Whoops. Sorry guys, I realize I’m sort of breaking the rules of engagement here – this one turned out _not_ to be an encapsulated little encounter where everyone was fine at the end and there’s nothing to work through next chapter. **

**Sorry! But the next part is nearly finished, and they will sort themselves out. Let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11

Daniel wished, not for the first time, that he smoked. (He was, obviously, never going to smoke.). If he smoked, he would be standing here right now with something to do, something relaxing that felt good and looked cool and calmed the unpleasant squirming in his belly.

Instead all he could do was play with his phone, and fidget around looking for a more comfortable way to lean against Johnny’s car. It wasn’t a great-shaped car to lean against, and he’d been out here for a while.

He decided that if Johnny didn’t surface after half an hour, he would go back inside and make sure everything was all right. For all he knew there was a security guard or something and Johnny had picked a fight with him and was even now up in there getting arrested.

Thirty-six minutes after the meeting had ended, four minutes until he was going to head back in, the doors open and Johnny came across the parking lot.

He couldn’t tell much from his stride, or from the expression on his face when he got close. He was making a fist, but Johnny almost _always_ stood with a fist ready so that didn’t tell him much either.

He waited. Johnny talked first. “Hey. What’s up.”

His stomach crunched. _Shit._ He had been hoping that Johnny would come out and take a swing at him, or demand a blowjob, or laugh it off, or at least tell him to go fuck himself. Pretending that nothing had happened was pretty much the worst case scenario, because what the hell was he supposed to _do_ with that? Something _had_ happened, and obviously Johnny was not happy about it – but it was a little late now for objections. _If that’s how you feel you should have stopped me. Why didn’t you do anything?_

“Nothing,” he said, just as bad at a casual tone as Johnny was. “Saw your car was still here. Just wanted to make sure you got out okay.”

Johnny shrugged. “I got out okay.”

He peeked fast – just a second – up at Johnny’s hair and it was wet. His stomach crunched again. “Are you-, uh, what are you up to tonight?”

“Just going home. To bed.” _Unless you wanna come over?_ He waited for it… but it didn’t come.

It really felt like they weren’t _done,_ but in the face of no invitation what was he supposed to say. “Okay, well. I’ll see you.”

“Yeah. See you.” Johnny nodded to him and got in and drove off.

* * *

**_Hey. About last night. Do I need a secret code to check in this time? Sierra romeo yankee?_ **

**Stop, I said im fine.**

**_Actually you didn’t say you're fine, you just drove away. After I waited half an hour out there for you. I figured you were mad._ **

**If I was mad id kick your ass. Cmon you know that.**

**_Okay well I still feel like I owe you. So let me know what night you want me and ill come over._ **

**Thats ok, dont worry about it. Srsly.**

* * *

He waited til every student was gone, and Johnny had had plenty of time to change into street clothes, before pushing the dojo door open.

“We’re closed,” Johnny yelled from in the office.

“Good,” he called back, “Your kids probably don’t need to hear this.”

Johnny came out. “ _Seriously_? Are you stalking me?”

“What, you mean the way you stalked me to the committee meeting the other night?” Immediately wished he hadn’t said that.He really wasn’t looking for a fight.

Johnny just huffed and shook his head. “Yeah, and look how that ended up.”

Fuck. He didn’t _like_ this feeling; it was almost like guilt and there was _no way on earth_ he should be feeling guilt where Johnny Lawrence was concerned. “Look, I want to talk about that.” That was a lie. He couldn’t think of almost a single thing he wanted less. But something was obviously badly wrong here; Johnny was turning down blowjobs for Christ’s sake.

Johnny’s head snapped up. “No,” he said. “I don’t _have_ to talk about it. You got your payback, I took it, that’s that. It’s done. You don’t get to take revenge _and_ bitch me out, it doesn’t work that way. You pick one or the other.”

“Well that’s the worst take on payback I’ve ever heard,” he said, faster than he could think, “And you _do_ have to talk about it and, and what do you mean, _done?_ And anyway I’m not _trying_ to bitch you out. I’m trying to apologize.” There: he said it.

Johnny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Seriously. What happened in the bathroom was, um...” His hands moved, but he didn’t have any words.

Johnny crossed his arms and found a couple. “Totally mean and weird and fucked up?”

Couldn’t really argue with that. “I mean…”

“Yeah. I know I said you could do whatever weird shit you wanted, LaRusso…”

“I know, I know, look-”

“-But I was kind of assuming you would at least _ask_ first.” Pissy and resentful… but it sounded like he was petering out. Like they were going to be able to smooth this over.

“I know. My thinking wasn’t exactly the clearest. For some reason.” He nodded down to himself. He didn’t say out loud whose fault _that_ was, because he was trying to make peace here… but he definitely said it with his eyebrows.

Johnny quirked his lips. “Yeah, that’s on me.” But then he came close, and his voice was soft and serious when he asked: “So did it feel good, telling me off like that? I take it you’ve been wanting to for a long time.”

His heart skipped a beat. How had he somehow failed to appreciate the fact that saying it _to Johnny_ meant that Johnny would _hear_ it? And figure out exactly what it meant. 

What was he supposed to say – _You terrorized your way so far into my head that I started jerking off about you, and I’ve never really gotten over it?_

Well, it wasn’t like Johnny didn’t already know.

He spread his hands yes.

Johnny looked at him a while. Finally nodded. “Then congratulations, I guess. You want to have a drink? I have beers in the office.” 

* * *

LaRusso sat across the desk, holding a beer and staring at it like he didn’t know what it was for. After an endless awkward silence he cleared his throat and said: “So. Just so we’re clear about the other night: I won’t do that again. Aright?” Finally he looked up.

Was that a _question?_ “I don’t care if you _do_ it,” Johnny said, “You just need to _ask_ first. It’s basic politeness, man.” 

He was proud of that one; it had taken him a while to puzzle out. The morning afterwards he’d felt like shit, and he’d sat there trying to figure out why the Bathroom Thing had been so bad, and he’d thought long and hard about the idea of it and the feel of it, and decided it was gross but not _that_ gross, not nearly as bad as the Soap Thing, and he knew he could probably deal with it if he wanted to. And the way to get him to want to, was to ask.

But sure enough LaRusso didn’t take great to being lectured; he gave eyebrows. “Politeness.”

He held his ground. “Yeah. Ever heard of it?”

LaRusso raised the beer almost all the way to his mouth and muttered into it. “I’m not sure there’s a _polite_ way to ask someone if you can ejaculate on their face while verbally abusing them in a toilet stall, but okay, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Hey.” He leaned over the desk to yank LaRusso’s wrist down so he could make eye contact. “You didn’t _abuse_ me. What do I look like?”

LaRusso bit his lip and looked at him for a long time. “You look like a guy who got cummed on the other day without permission,” he said at last. And Johnny made a face but how could you argue with that? “So like I said: I’m sorry about that and I won’t do it again. Okay?”

“Okay. Good.” He’d had no idea LaRusso was even capable of apologies. “So we’re good.”

“Good.” LaRusso drank. But he looked restless.

What was he waiting for? Oh: “I’m sorry too,” Johnny said. “For sending those texts. I thought you’d like ‘em - but yeah, I should have asked first. Basic politeness, right? Sorry.” 

LaRusso blinked. “You thought I’d like them.”

“Yeah, I figured they’d push your freaky buttons.” And they _had,_ he knew it. That part he’d nailed. If only he’d been better about getting permission first.

“Johnny...”

He noticed then what a _weird_ look he was getting. And it made him kind of nervous; he wasn’t trying to provoke another explosion. He frowned. “What?”

LaRusso shook his head. “Johnny… let me blow you. Please. Now.”

For some reason that made him even _more_ nervous. “What? Why?”

“What do you mean _why_?”

It was a stupid question, maybe, but he wasn’t backing off it. “I mean _why_? Why do you want to blow me?”

“Because- what kind of question is that?” Pissed off and defensive - _this_ was classic LaRusso. “Because I like giving blowjobs and you like getting them? Because I want to? Because-. Because. Because I thought you were just harassing me the other night,” he spat out, finally.

Ah. Well that explained some things. “I wasn’t. I mean I knew I was being annoying,” he added. “But I wasn’t, you know...” He gestured aimlessly with his beer. “Like when we were kids.”

“Yeah. Then you _really_ didn’t deserve that.”

 _You think?_ “You seriously feel bad,” he recognized. Then he winced. He shouldn’t have said that; they weren’t doing _feelings_.

But LaRusso didn’t argue with him. “I’m seriously going to get down on my knees and suck your dick in the Cobra Kai office, Johnny. It doesn’t get much more serious than that for me.”

He believed that, and it was... kind of hot, actually.

“So… you in?”

His dick had gone ahead and cast its vote, but still. “I’m thinking about it.”

LaRusso waited. (Politely. At least he’d gotten the message about asking!).

“You really want to, huh.”

“Yeah, I really do. That work for you?”

Yes, it did. Enough thinking. He nodded. “Yeah. Trashcan’s over there. Don’t spit all over my floor,” he ordered, an effort not to be a total pushover at least.

LaRusso’s tongue moved around in his mouth. “I won’t spit on your floor. Promise.”

* * *

**TBC.**

**There, we’re in a significantly happier place this time. One more part coming soon.**

**Huge thanks to Supergirlx55, who spent massive time helping me puzzle out guilt and apology in LaRussoLand to make this chapter possible.**

**Let me know what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12

[[Sorry, uploading error, pass GO and collect $200 and move to the next chapter.]]


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Once again, sorry for taking long! Things were still a little touchy with them and I wanted to get it right.**

* * *

He really hadn’t been joking. This – folded into the claustrophobic space between a desk and a wall, bowed down in front of someone who wasn’t happy with him – this was not how he liked to give his blowjobs. Especially not here in Cobra Kai, where he couldn’t shake the uneasy sense of _evil_ in the air, and especially not when his partner was Johnny Lawrence.

This was one person to whom he was _never_ going to be able to murmur _rough me up a little_ after a few too many drinks. Fooling around with Johnny always felt a little like playing with fire, but right now it felt like maybe flames were creeping up the curtains and he had miscalculated somewhere.

But. A promise was a promise, and his more rational mind was confident that this was going to be fine, especially when Johnny unzipped and then hooked his hands behind the back of his chair, lounging back, open. “Go for it.”

He came close and crouched down. _On my knees,_ he’d said, so he went. Took out Johnny’s cock and nosed against it for a second, flicked his tongue out.

The guy was as easy as ever – that first lick had him hissing and moving, bringing his arms around to clutch at the armrests of his chair.

Immediately he felt a little better, more in his element; Johnny was behaving and not going to give him any trouble. Good. To let him know he was going to get a little more latitude today though – Daniel really _was_ sorry – when he started sucking he reached up and moved Johnny’s hand to the back of his head.

“Mm, nice.” But Johnny didn’t _do_ anything yet – just scratched through his hair, and spread his legs a little further. 

He got into it pretty fast; Johnny was fun to blow, and he was glad to find that that was still true even in these less-than-ideal circumstances. He started to go deeper, but the position wasn’t good and he gagged almost immediately. Mindful of the floor, he sniffed back hard to swallow instead of slobbering.

“You good?” Johnny rubbed his shoulder.

He pulled off all the way to talk. “Yeah. Just your chair’s a little high, it’s hard to get my throat open from this angle.” He didn’t mind putting in effort, but a little appreciation would be nice. “Talk to me.”

A lazy smack in the back of the head. “You are such a diva.”

“Come on.” He sucked at the tip, noisily. (With a different partner it might be a kiss, but not with him, obviously.). Added, singsong and teasing: “It will be wooooorth it.”

Johnny laughed. Shook him. “Well I believe that, at least, because you are like genuinely good at this. You’re good even when you’re just sucking on it, but that fancy deepthroat shit you do is- _oh shit there you go._ ” Finally he’d managed to swallow. “Okay, yup. That. Do that.” Let go and grabbed at the armrests again.

“Nngkay,” Daniel said when he came up. Now that he’d gotten the hang of it, he moved slowly but pressed his face all the way down into Johnny’s crotch on every stroke.

“Jesus-. I don’t know why you-. Even bother to do karate,” Johnny said, between heavy breathing. “You could just-. Solve all your problems-. By giving blowjobs.”

He laughed a little, thinking of trying to pitch that to Amanda at the next executive meeting, and the sound of himself laughing with a cock in his mouth kind of pushed his buttons.

“I mean. As annoying as you are-. I personally-. Am probably never going to punch you in the face again,” Johnny said. “Wouldn’t wanna risk hurting this mouth.” He touched at it, pressing against Daniel’s lips while they were working. “Frigging national treasure right here.”

The hand moved away and wiped against its armrest. “I mean, sloppiest treasure _ever_ , but.”

His mouth watered harder at that. He squirmed, and rammed down deep again, and that was _good_ but he wanted more – wanted touch.

So he pulled all the way off, savoring the burn in his throat as the cock cleared it for the last time, and leaned back to get at his pants. “Hold on. One second,” he said.

“Mm. Don’t stop,” Johnny complained thickly, and kind of sat up to investigate. And then jumped. “Hey – whoa.” A lot more alert suddenly. “What are you doing?”

“I’m not stopping, don’t worry,” he said, tugging his belt open. “I can multitask.”

“ _No._ ” Johnny grabbed him by the shoulder – and this time it wasn’t an encouraging touch. “No. No jerking off.”

“What? You mean…?” He pulled free. “I’m not _allowed_ to jerk off, is that it? What the hell is your problem – I thought you said we were good!”

“What?” Johnny didn’t rise to a fight - he looked mainly confused. “No – look, we _are_ good,” he insisted. “I’ll take care of you after – right after. Just don’t do it now. I just want to enjoy the BJ without stressing, okay?”

 _Stressing?_ He took in the tense and defensive posture. Wow: somehow he had apparently managed to spook Johnny Lawrence, the guy who got choked out by his sensei and then tried to hire him back again. It was actually kind of offensive. _What do you think I am?_

Still – as irrational as it was the stress looked real; he moved to calm it. “Okay – okay,” he said, smooth and reassuring now. He brought both hands to the inner thighs to stroke. “That’s fine – I won’t.”

“Okay good.” Johnny relaxed – slow and wary – and leaned back, which gave him access again and he took it, opening his mouth to start careful and shallow while he tried to process this. It really _wasn’t_ fine, it was-.

“I mean, seriously, man,” Johnny said up towards the ceiling. “What do you expect. You _jizzed on my face_.”

The cock was hardly past his teeth yet but suddenly he choked. Thought fled. He clamped down on a moan; Johnny would be furious if he realized he was-

“And in my _hair._ ” Johnny’s hand returned, sliding around his jaw. Patted him.

 _Dear God_ he was doing it on purpose.

Arousal flared so fast it actually hurt and he pulled away. “Hold on. Wait – I’m getting crushed here – I have to unzip. You’re killing me.”

“Really? I mean you _said_ talk to you.” Johnny smirked at him, then shifted to slide a foot between Daniel’s spread knees, press a shin against him. (And the pressure felt great but he pulled away from it immediately, burning with embarrassment – because seriously, _a foot?_ What was he, a soccer ball?). “Whoa – that _is_ wood, damn. Okay, you can take it out. But seriously, no jerking.”

“Okay.” It wasn’t great, he needed touch, but at least once he got his pants open he wasn’t being painfully constricted. “Okay.” He exhaled sharp, cracked his neck, geared up. Johnny was easy and already underway; this shouldn’t take long; he’d survive.

“You set?” Johnny held his cock up helpfully with one hand and beckoned with the other. “Then let’s go, get on it.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, Johnny.” But he got on it. He sucked hard and used both hands; no more leisurely massaging the dick with his throat. Now, he was in it to win it; he had places to get to.

“Takes one to know one, man. You jizzed all over me and left me there, remember?”

 _Oh god oh no._ Johnny was doing it again. Unbelievable. And unbearable, because he wasn’t allowed to touch himself and no matter how he squirmed around looking for friction, there was nothing there, nothing to rub against, nothing to help.

“It was actually a while before I got up to clean off afterwards.”

He whimpered aloud. Sucked harder. How was he supposed to pay attention and do a good job while someone was actively torturing him?

“You shouldn’t have walked out. You would’ve liked it. Me just sitting there with your come on my face.”

“ _Nngh._ ”He was bobbing desperately, skill out the window, so uncoordinated it was a relief when Johnny’s hand went to his head to guide him, when Johnny started thrusting into his mouth. He _nnng_ ’d encouragingly, kneaded at the hips, and Johnny started going faster. Gripping harder. _Thrusting_ harder. He held tight and matched the pace.

“It was pretty gross.”

He shuddered and hung on tighter.

“Look at you – you even like thinking about it, you asshole,” Johnny accused, laughing a little. “God you’re a dick.” Crashing over and over again into the back of his throat, too hard to even try to swallow. “You did it right on my cheek and it was like-. Dripping down. I couldn’t even-. Just wipe it off. I had to go scrub in the sink. And clean it out of my hair.”

His eyes were closed; he was seeing Johnny in the stall-… and at the sink-… (and young and furious with his gi coming open and his head forced back for it). He had finally found something to grind against and he was doing it mindlessly, desperately, in time with the pounding against his palate. _Perfect, perfect, push it, yes._

He was (getting really sore but) deep in the zone when Johnny gasped “ _I’m there,_ ” and he absolutely did not want it to be over but Johnny insisted, “I’m there I’m there I’m there-” probably half a dozen times all in one breath, and then froze and pulled Daniel’s hair and ordered (begged?): “Do it.”

So he did it: forced himself all the way down, throat aching _,_ and he heard Johnny cursing and felt the cock _pulsing_ down in there and his eyes rolled back because it was _so good_.

As Johnny’s orgasm pumped into him his own hips shoved harder than ever – and when it was over and he finally started to pull off, he realized in horror that what he had been rutting against all this time was Johnny’s leg. _Oh god._ He cringed so hard he couldn’t _breathe_ through the humiliation, but before he could _do_ anything-

“Look out – I got this.” Johnny was bending over, reaching down to him, palming his cock over his underwear and twisting for a way to turn his wrist and get a good angle.

“Oh _fuck_ -.” The rough, awkward pawing was somehow exactly right and swamped all other thought. He arched into it and swallowed sandpaper and managed to wheeze out some actual directives. “Yeah that. Just pressure, that’s good. Don’t stop.” Johnny gave up on looking for a real handjob grip and just held him, hard, letting him shove into his hand. 

It was already almost time – he was panting – and then Johnny started to talk. “Okay. So think about this: there was a _mirror_ in there, LaRusso.” Growling into his ear. “I had to _look at myself_ , and see what you did to me.”

That was it. He was gone.

* * *

He was good at this – _damn_ good. LaRusso was writhing against him and making high airy noises, almost like crying, into his shoulder.

(They were kind of scratchy noises, because Johnny had fucked the absolute shit out of that throat a minute ago. He was good at that too.).

He felt the wetness through LaRusso’s underwear, and eased up, slowed, finally stopped when the writhing did. He untangled himself and sat back in his chair. (As he did, he caught the impulse to kiss the top of the head _just_ in time and didn’t do it; no problem; it was just crossed wires after coming.).

LaRusso leaned in to rest against his leg, forehead pressing just above his knee, hot even through his jeans. Johnny dropped a hand on his shoulder – patted him hard, almost a slap. Like: _nice job._ They sat there a while, catching their breath.

 _Both_ of them were catching their breath – because instead of taking turns, this time they’d gotten off pretty much together. He thought about that, as he came down, and eventually decided that as awesome as it was he probably wouldn’t do it again. First of all those blowjobs were good enough to deserve one hundred percent of his focus… but more importantly, it was hard to stay just distantly amused at LaRusso’s freakiness when he was balls-deep in the guy. Talking pervy for him was fine, fun even, but it wasn’t something he wanted to start popping boners for.

He wondered what LaRusso thought.

When LaRusso finally did speak though, it was just a sigh and: “ _Fuck,_ Johnny” as he straightened up.

His voice was hoarse. That was hot. 

Honestly, other than the iffiness of doing it all at once it had _all_ been hot – the fact of LaRusso sucking his dick in the dojo, and that _throat_ of his, and getting rough, and making him so crazy with weird shit that he almost cried. It was going to be hilarious seeing him buttoned into a suit again after this.

“Yeah. That was pretty good, huh?”

“Yeah.” Shaking his head. He cleared his throat – which helped some with the rasp, but not much. “I was afraid it would-… I mean-… I wasn’t kidding about this office.” He looked up, so weirdly sincere and intense that Johnny had an urge to pour a beer over his head. “But I know you weren’t kidding about the bathroom either.” Ugh – the urge was intensifying by the second. “And look – I could see you got nervous today-”

“I wasn’t _nervous-_ ”

“-But you gotta believe me, there is no need for that.”

“Yeah I know, I know-”

“I mean I’m not trying to get all New Agey here, okay-”

“Good, then don’t.”

“-But, you gotta know that _you’re safe with me_. You can trust me. You know that, right?”

“Jesus Christ. Please shut up.” He couldn’t deal with that level of mushy bullshit – especially delivered with that wide-eyed Bambi look... and rasped out like the Exorcist. Which gave him the perfect subject change. “Save your voice, man. You sound like you need it.”

LaRusso laughed at that, and stopped giving him the Bambi look, and got to his feet. “Yeah, really. I’ll be good tomorrow. Better be – if I’m still like this on Thursday Amanda’s going to kill me; I’m speaking at a lunch.”

That startled him. _Amanda._ He had _no idea_ about her, he realized suddenly. “Your wife,” he said. “Uh, does she…?” 

“It’s fine,” LaRusso said with finality. He took out his baby wipes, walked around the desk, and fussed with his face in the glass. “She knows I found you online and decided to blow you. Unfinished business, whatever. She was fine with it. It’s fine.”

 _Unfinished business_ that was getting less and less finished by the BJ, it felt like. Whatever. “It _better_ be fine, because my couch is not comfortable.” And he wasn’t even totally sure he’d be willing to let LaRusso have it, anyway. 

Actually, yes he was. This particular houseguest came with potential benefits.

LaRusso was rolling his eyes. “I’m going to talk to her again, okay? But it is absolutely going to be fine. It’s not like I’m having an affair.” He turned away to rummage around in his briefs with a wipee, and then threw it in the trashcan. “And what do you care, anyway?”

Fair point. “No, yeah.” He reached for his beer, and polished it off. “No strings, right?” He shrugged, like he couldn’t still feel the heat of LaRusso’s face pressing against his leg. Like those weren’t the girliest declarations anyone had given him since high school. Like he actually _was_ planning to go back online one of these days and play the field.

* * *

**TBC.**

**(Yes I'm aware that it's not the exorcist himself who makes that grating sound; it's the possessed kid, but I think in most people's mental shorthand it comes out this way.).**

**And thanks again to Supergirlx55 for help with this arc! It turned out to be significantly heavier than previous parts. My bad.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I sort of feel like one more piece is needed to close this arc out. Here it is. Enjoy!**

* * *

He opened the door to discover a hot babe on his doorstep. “Hey,” he said, happy for a second before he registered exactly who it was. Oh. “Morning, Mrs. LaRusso.”

“Morning, Johnny. Glad you’re awake.” Was that a dig? It was after eleven; he’d been up nearly an hour. “Got a minute? Need to borrow you. Just grab some ID and come with me – I’m driving.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and then looked around, to make sure she didn’t have backup. “Driving where?”

“A clinic, where you can get an STD panel so I can stop worrying about it.”

“A _what_?” He leaned forward to he could hiss more quietly. “I don’t have any diseases.”

“Good,” she said. “Then the results of this testing should make us all very happy. Now come on.”

He leaned harder on the doorframe, and shook his head. Getting tested for a VD was embarrassing. It was something you did when you felt _dirty_ , when your dick was burning and you knew you had fucked up.

“Why not?” she said, frowning. “Is there something bad about your health you haven’t told Daniel?”

He felt like he was twelve and getting chewed out by a hot teacher. He shook his head again.

“Are you sure? No HIV, no herpes?”

If he answered her like he wanted to, LaRusso would hit the ceiling. So he just kept his trap shut and shook his head.

“You ever get those cold sores on your mouth? Or-” Her eyes dipped. “Down there?”

And, there went his temper. “No. Nothing weird ever happens with my dick except that sometimes your husband sucks it. Okay?”

But she didn’t get mad in return – she ignored him. “When’s the last time you had testing done?”

He looked skywards. When was the last time he woke up next to a skank with a firecrotch? When was the last time he had insurance? (When was the last time both of those things were true at once?)

“You’re supposed to do it routinely, you know that,” she said. “I get it every year. Whether or not anything _weird ever happens_ with my lady parts.”

“I’m sure that makes plenty of sense, if you’re sleeping around and being stupid.”

“Or if my husband is. Like if he’s out there, I don’t know, sucking on penises whose owners don’t take care of themselves.” She cocked her head with a big, bland smile.

That gave him pause. “Wait… are you saying you think LaRusso might _have_ something?”

“I don’t know,” she said patiently, “And neither do you, and that’s why people get tested, just in case. So come with me. I will pay. They just draw your blood,” she added, “It’s not like they do a whole pelvic exam, Jesus. Stop whining. Get in the car.”

A whole what? He followed her into her SUV and didn’t put his seatbelt on. She asked once, and then sighed and reached over him and did it herself. 

She smelled good, and he hated her. She was a bitch and he had no idea what LaRusso saw in her. He sat sulky and silent the entire way there. 

* * *

She stayed with him all the way into the exam room. It seemed like a pussy move to tell her to leave so he didn’t, but, having her hear about his pre-LaRusso dry spell made him hate her even more.

Then they couldn’t get the needle in for the blood draw. He was hung over – so, dehydrated – and the girl had stuck him three times in one elbow and twice in the other and was _still_ having no luck, when finally the wife spoke up. “Hon? If you’re having trouble, it’s not you it’s him, but we’d appreciate it if you go get whichever of your colleagues here is a champion vein-finder. I’m sure there’s someone. Do us a favor and go get her. Or him. Whatever. Kay?”

He glared suspiciously at her as the girl fled the room. “What?” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, I would love to watch them stick needles in you all day long. I just have places to be, is all.”

He believed her; she really was that big a bitch.

And he liked her a little better after that.

* * *

Afterwards, he snatched a lollipop from the counter on the way out. Orange. The best flavor. He was rolling it around his cheek absently in the car when he realized the wife was staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing.” she looked at the road again. “So, Daniel said you don’t go down on him.”

“That’s right.” Now he sort of wished he wasn’t sucking on a lollipop. “Never have, never will.”

“Good. Okay? Because that is _my_ penis to suck on.” She sounded like she wanted to get in a fight; he liked her a _lot_ better now. “You understand me?”

“No problem.”

“It does not go into _any_ of your orifices – you got that?”

“Yeah, I-. I got it.” After a second he added: “But you know I do...?” Jerkoff gesture.

“Yes. That’s fine.” Neat and competent. She might actually be _more_ bossy than LaRusso, if that was possible.

“Kay.”

She cleared her throat. “But there is _no_ sweet, tender romantic stuff. I know you mean a lot to him - a lot of god knows what - but this is not a romance. Please tell me we’re all on the same page about that.”

He took the lollipop out of his mouth to speak clearly. “Mrs. LaRusso, I cannot tell you how much we are on _exactly the same page_ about everything you just said.”

She looked over at him again. Then back at the road. “Good.” On the way to the clinic her driving had been fast and competent, almost angry. Now she was going a little slower. Maybe she was chilling out. “So why do you do it?”

The million dollar question. He returned to the lollipop. “Dunno,” he mumbled at last. “I like getting my dick sucked? And all that weird shit is funny. Kind of fun. I don’t know.” He knew it was none of his business and didn’t matter anyway, but he couldn’t help asking: “Does he tell you the kind of stuff it is?”

“A little, yeah.” She looked faintly amused. “Just, you know. Making you do pushups and stuff.” She shrugged.

He shifted in his seat. “Yeah.” The rest was too embarrassing to talk about. The lollipop banged around his teeth as he switched it to the other cheek. “He’s a bossy little prick.”

She laughed. “All I can say is… better you than me.”

* * *

He got a text that night. **_Thank you for cooperating._**

He very generously didn’t answer that Amanda was even more scary than she was hot, and that he now completely understood why LaRusso was desperate for a chance to wear the pants in bed. Instead he just said: **No problem it wasnt that bad.**

**_Out of curiosity: how dangerous do you think road head actually is?_ **

From him? Probably deadly. It was a terrible idea. But Johnny didn’t hesitate even a single second.

* * *

Road head by LaRusso did in fact turn out to be a terrible idea, but not for the reasons Johnny had anticipated. He had imagined it would be so good it was dangerous... but instead, LaRusso insisted on waiting until there were _no other cars_ on the highway before he would even open Johnny’s jeans, and then even once he started, he popped up anxiously at every sound and every change in Johnny’s driving. Which he also criticized and stressed about, constantly, so that it was impossible to enjoy anything.

So finally, sick of it, Johnny pitched his voice a couple of octaves up and whined: “Stop worrying, Daniel, come on – you’re _safe_ with me. You can _trust_ me. How come- _OW!_ ”

It was a real, actual scrape with teeth. “Johnny I will bite you, before God almighty I swear I will bite you _so hard._ ” Growled up from his lap.

“Okay – okay,” he promised breathlessly. His dick actually stung. And LaRusso still had his hand wrapped around it. “I’m sorry.” 

Maybe a little too late, he recognized that the guy was actually pissed off. Well _okay,_ but what did he expect. When you said something like that, you opened yourself up to taking a little shit for it. “Sorry,” he said again, “I was just fucking around.”

“Well, don’t.” LaRusso sat up, and let go. “Just drive, all right?”

He took a breath and tried to relax. It _still stung._ He looked away from the road a second to check it out – and saw an actual red mark, a raw spot. “What the hell - you really cut me, man.”

“Yeah, I did.” LaRusso shrugged, tightly. “And I’m not sorry.”

“Fine.” He moved to zip up – he was still at half-mast despite LaRusso having gouged him like a chick with braces, but at this point it looked like he was probably not getting lucky.

But LaRusso sighed. “I’m not sending you home like that, don’t worry,” he said wearily. “I’m just not doing it on the road, because it turns out the possibility of dying is not that sexy. Okay?”

He nodded. Drove. Kept his eyes open for a place to make a U-turn.

Before he found one, though, he saw a rest area. Just a little spit of pavement with a picnic table, pretty much a glorified breakdown lane, but he wasn’t picky. He pulled into it, turned the car off.

LaRusso looked around. Looked at him like he was crazy. “What – _here_?”

“You think there’s better scenery half a mile down the road?”

“No I mean-… I mean we’ll go to your place or something. We’re not going to… to fool around at a rest stop. In the middle of the day. That’s disgusting.” This from the guy who liked to deepthroat until his nose ran. “It’d be like doing it in a public-.” He stopped abruptly. Flushed.

Johnny snorted. “You were gonna say _public bathroom,_ weren’t you.”

He covered his face and sighed “Shut up, Johnny,” through his fingers. Then he straightened up. “All right, fine - but I am not getting down on the pavement for you. Just, just lie down in the backseat and I’ll figure something out.”

Things were looking up. He got out, pushed the front seat forward and perched on the edge of the back. Sideways, leaving his feet outside on the ground, because there was no way he was actually going to fit all the way in the car.

Then LaRusso grabbed him by the shoulders from behind – leaning in from the passenger side doorway. “Lie _down_ , I said.” And pulled, until he was lying on the seat, still with his legs outside. He looked up at LaRusso from below. LaRusso was bending over him. It was going to be the upside-down thing. _Score._

(If giving head wasn’t gross, with a little wriggling this would actually probably be a decent way to sixty-nine. He filed it away for in case he ever got a babe in here. Though honestly, he wasn’t wild about going down on babes either.).

“Hey,” he said, and tugged at the hem of the shirt in his face. “Tuck this in. I don’t need a mouthful of your dorky dad-clothes.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need a mouthful of your pubic hair, but I don’t see you ever trimming for me,” LaRusso muttered, like the jerk he was – and _flicked_ him.

He jumped and banged his head, which got him laughed at, but at least LaRusso tucked the shirt in.

And then started sucking his cock – really, really well. Fast and smooth and all the way down. “Oh my god,” he groaned, tossing his head from side to side. Finally he found something – a thigh? – to muffle his sounds against because otherwise they were getting frankly embarrassing. “ _Ohh._ ”

He couldn’t move much, he didn’t say much, he mostly just laid there moaning. He did pull his face away far enough to be heard one time though, so that he could beg “Please just do that forever,” – and yes, that seemed to be the plan. Endless long steady strokes, taking him down into the throat every time. Warm hand holding his balls.

There was literally nothing he would change about this moment (except the seatbelt receiver that was digging into his back); he would happily have laid still all day long with that hot mouth moving on him and that tight throat squeezing.

Eventually the tempo picked up a little, and it brought him right over. He was so far lost that he didn’t think to give warning, only “ _Oh jesus_ ” when it was actually happening. But the guy didn’t miss a beat – just slid all the way down and let it in.

Afterwards he had no thought of moving, not even when LaRusso got off him and laughed “Hey, did I kill you?” and tapped his face. Not even when gravel crunched by the driver’s side and LaRusso kicked him lightly in the shin. “At least zip up, before someone sees us and we get arrested.”

He snickered.

“Do I have to come in there and do it myself?”

The space around him was suddenly full as LaRusso leaned in, and he was too slow to get up or stop it before- “ _AH-!_ ”

Bare dry hand on his bare oversensitive dick. Intolerable.

LaRusso backed off fast with apologies when he yelped, but he still moved fast to get himself tucked away and zipped up. (The frantic tucking and zipping was not exactly comfortable either, but he got it done.). Once he had a couple of layers of protection in place he felt better.

Until LaRusso climbed in on top of him and settled down – with a thigh pressed _right up against_ his crotch, just this side of painful. “You’re really sensitive after you come, aren’t you.”

 _Oh no._ He knew immediately where this was going. “Yeah, I am,” he answered, challenging. As if he could alpha his way out of this one, as if he had any fight left at all. “So what?”

“Just touch, or pressure too?” All _innocent._

Johnny just glared.

“Fine - Guess I’ll figure it out for myself.” And then rolled his hips, hard. 

“ _Mmmn!_ ” He kept his mouth closed, but sound escaped anyway. 

LaRusso froze, looking shocked and flustered and maybe even guilty.

...but didn’t climb off him.

* * *

Daniel had had no idea a little hip-thrust would get such a reaction – he’d only been fucking around. But when his breathing had restarted and Johnny still hadn’t pushed him off... then suddenly maybe he wasn’t. He was _not_ into pain – not feeling it, not causing it, not ever – but it turned out that the way Johnny’s face tightened up while he toughed it out was _really_ appealing.

They were still pressed right against each other. “You okay?” he said. Johnny gave a twitch that looked like a shrug – a _whatever,_ maybe?

So he bore down again, full-on rubbing this time. “Come on, answer me.” Slower - harder. Savoring every crease around Johnny’s eyes, watching his lip pull up. “What if I liked this? Could you take it for me?”

“What does it look like?”

 _Oh god._ He kind of breathed it out loud, then tried to shut his mouth because it was embarrassing to react so hard to something so mild.

Johnny laughed and rolled his eyes – then tensed when Daniel pressed into him again. “Shit, man,” he complained.

“I know, sorry. Just a little more, okay? You’re doing great, Johnny. Really.”

At that, Johnny finally struggled – pushed him away, and angled sideways to protect himself. “ _No_. Don’t, all right?”

For a second he was disappointed that it was over… but then Johnny settled back down. “…Don’t talk like that,” he clarified. “None of that _nice_ shit. You wanna torture me, fine – do it quietly.”

 _You wanna torture me, fine._ Well that invitation was definitely going to resurface in his fantasies later. Along with the tight, determined expression on Johnny’s face.

Which he could use a little more of. “Okay. I’ll do it quietly.” And he checked once again for permission, because once you started calling it _torture_ you had better be sure. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Johnny sighed, theatrical. “I got it.”

So he went ahead. He looked Johnny in the eyes and pressed down on him, grinding, _watching_ him endure it. Memorizing every second. It was too bad he needed his arms to support himself crammed in this ridiculous car, because he would have liked to hold Johnny’s jaw as if he were _making_ him stay in position. He knew Johnny would allow that - he would allow anything. He was lying still and gritting his teeth and just letting Daniel-. Jesus. On _purpose_.

Daniel made himself stop before he got any more turned on. “Okay, no more.” He watched Johnny relax, then pushed away and started to back himself out of the car. “God that was fun,” he said, figuring that the ban on talking was now lifted, since he’d stopped. “Seriously - thank you.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s all good.” Johnny was rubbing himself gingerly as he got up, reaching in, adjusting his pants. They took a minute to compose themselves, separately, before getting back into the car. Driver and passenger seat, sitting normally, looking straight ahead.

“You okay?” he figured he might as well ask now – save an awkward text later.

He saw a nod out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah. Listen… that made me think, though. Something I want. For next time.”

“Uh, sure. What is it?” He tried not to let his guard come up at the idea of Johnny asking him for something.

“I _am_ , uh, sensitive. After.” Daniel didn’t look at him; he sounded already almost embarrassed enough to flee the car. “Sometime would you, like… keep your mouth on me for a minute? _Really gently,_ ” he added suddenly, “Like, the _opposite_ of today. Can you do that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Awesome. Cool.”

“No problem.”

He started the car. Pulled back on the road.

Daniel found himself looking over at him. Specifically, at his crotch. Thinking of what would happen if someone were to reach over and just lay a hand on him, just-

“Hey.” Johnny was looking back and forth from him to the road, with some alarm. “Stoppit. I see you perving.”

“I’m not perving,” he protested, and faced forward again. A little horrified with himself, because he _was_ perving, but he absolutely _could not_ get in the habit of checking Johnny out in public and imagining the kind of things he was imagining.

“If road head doesn’t work, then road torture is _definitely_ off the table.”

 _Road torture._ Jesus.

“So quit thinking about how you want to rub my jeans too hard against my dick right now. Yeesh.”

He tried not to squirm around.

Johnny laughed. Reached over and groped him appraisingly a minute, then returned his hand to the wheel. “Yup. Man, you are so screwed.” Chuckling. “By the time I get you home you are going to have the bluest blue balls of your _life._ ”

Unbelievable. _You never learn, do you._ Johnny was an idiot with the memory of a goldfish, who lived to bully people at any cost.

On the flip side, it was good he wasn’t acting so damn spooked anymore. He must have taken the trust thing to heart, or he would be treading a lot more carefully. (Daniel wasn’t going to point _that_ out though; Johnny would only make fun.). 

“Ahem,” he said instead. Lecturing. “What do we say before we torture someone, Johnny?”

Johnny looked startled. “Oh,” he said after a second. “Yeah. Uh… can I?” He glanced over, uncertainly. A couple of times.

“Aright. Fine. Just: _do not_ crash the car.”

And that was it for the uncertainty. “Are you _sure?_ ” he purred. “Are you _sure_ you’re good if I talk dirty to you, and touch your junk – not enough to finish you off, though – and send you home to your wife with the most gigantic middle-of-the-day boner she’s ever seen? Are you _positive_?” Looked over and smirked. “Because I have a lot to say.” 

“Asshole.” He opened his legs to give access. Closed his eyes to listen. And braced for a very sexy and unbearable ride.

* * *

**The End.**

**You know the drill, though. This is the end _for now_ , but. We shall see what the future brings :-)**

**I actually have an idea now for how for this fic actually, permanently ends.**

**Please let me know what you think!**


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